STORY  TELLING 

WHAT  TO  TELL  AND 
HOW  TO  TELL  IT 


EDNALYMAN 


STORY  TELLING 


STORY  TELLING 

WHAT  TO   TELL   AND   HOW 
TO   TELL   IT 

BY 

EDNA  LYMAN 

FIFTH  EDITION 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
1914 


COPYRIGHT 

A.   C.    McCLURG   &   CO. 

1910 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  England 

Published,  Sept.  17,  1910 
Second  Edition,  Nov.,  1910 
Third  Edition,  June,  1911 
Fourth  Edition,  January,  1913 
Fifth  Edition,  July,  1914 


dent 


THE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 
THE  THREE  WHO  INSISTED 


306914 


PREFACE 

rilHE  lost  art  of  the  troubadour  has  been 
•*•  revived  in  the  present  day  art  of  the 
story  teller;  but  the  story  teller,  unlike  his 
early  brotherhood,  may  not  devote  all  his 
time  to  the  recital  of  tales  merely  because 
they  entertain.  The  spirit  of  education  has 
seized  him  and  bound  him  to  service,  and  the 
delight  which  all  people  feel  when  they  listen 
to  a  story  has  been  made  to  serve  a  second- 
ary purpose  in  kindergartens  and  elementary 
schools,  in  libraries  and  playgrounds. 

The  demand  for  stories  has  been  carried  by 
the  children  from  the  school  and  the  library 
to  the  home,  with  the  result  that  those  who  are 
not,  like  the  poet,  born  to  the  art,  have  asked 
of  any  who  would  listen,  "  What  shall  we  tell, 
and  how  shall  we  tell  it  ?  " 

As  will  be  gathered  from  the  body  of  the 

book,  there  is  no  desire  or  attempt  either  to 

train   or   equip   the   person   who   expects   to 

become  a  professional  story  teller,  or  to  give 

vii 


PREFACE 

new  ideas  to  those  already  familiar  with  this 
art.  The  book  is  intended  for  those  who, 
untrained,  must  meet  this  demand  for  stories, 
and  are  at  a  loss  where  to  find  material  or 
what  to  select,  and  who  are  limited  by  small 
library  resources. 

The  literature  on  story  telling  concerns  it- 
self, for  the  most  part,  with  the  requirements 
of  the  kindergarten  and  earlier  grades,  and 
very  little  which  is  suggestive  and  helpful 
seems  available  for  the  child  whose  chief  in- 
terest is  in  heroes  and  adventure.  It  is  this 
child  who  has  been  chiefly  considered  in  the 
suggestions  for  stories  to  tell  which  have 
been  made  in  this  volume. 

The  epic  tales,  of  course,  are  familiar  to 
every  one,  but  their  peculiar  fitness  for  the 
needs  of  the  hero-loving  boy  and  girl  has 
not  been  appreciated,  and  the  fact  that  no 
general  use  has  been  made  of  them,  except  in 
the  case  of  a  few  isolated  stories,  has  led 
to  the  desire  to  bring  them  to  the  attention 
of  people  who  are  telling  stories. 

The  enthusiasm  with  which  the  stories, 
one  and  all,  have  been  greeted,  as  I  have  per- 
sonally tested  them  in  schools,  libraries  in 
viii 


PREFACE 

large  cities  and  small  towns,  churches,  settle- 
ments, and  with  children  gathered  together 
for  social  purposes  or  entertainment,  has 
convinced  me  that  they  have  more  than  local 
interest. 

My  thanks  are  due  the  several  publishing 
houses  who  have  courteously  granted  per- 
mission to  use  the  copyrighted  material  in 

chapters.  _    _ 

Hi.  -L. 

OAK  PARK,  ILL.,  July  1,  1910. 


ix 


CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION      ..........  xiii 

CHAPTER  PAGE 
I    RESPONSIBILITY  OF  SOCIETY  FOR  WHAT 

CHILDREN  READ 19 

II    READING  ALOUD 31 

Influence  of  reading  aloud ;  the  "  reading  story 
hour  "  in  the  public  library ;  suggestions  for 
books  and  selections  to  read. 

III  STORY  TELLING 48 

Revival  of  the  art;  necessity  for  training; 
great  short  stories ;  Tolstoy's  "Where  Love 
Is,  There  God  Is  Also"  a  type;  difference 
between  text  for  reading  and  one  for  telling ; 
selection  of  stories  to  tell  from  the  "Jungle 
Books." 

IV  ARRANGING  THE  PROGRAM  OF  MISCEL- 

LANEOUS STORIES 79 

Comparison  between  the  construction  of  a 
musical  program  and  one  of  stories;  illus- 
trative programs  ;  stories  for  a  Japanese 
program ;  stories  for  a  Spring  program. 

V    BIOGRAPHICAL  STORIES 162 

Biography  a  source  for  stories  to  tell ;  the  dra- 
matic element  necessary  for  a  good  story  to 
tell ;  suggestions  for  biographies  to  tell. 

VI    NATIONAL  EPIC  TALES 174 

What  is  an  epic  1  Why  they  are  good  stories  to 
tell, 

xi 


CONTENTS 

CIIAFTEH  PAGE 

VII      HOW    TO    USE   THESE    EPIC   TALES  .       .       .       184 

Robin  Hood;  Roland;  The  Cid;  Frithiof;  The 
Odyssey ;  King  Arthur ;  Rustem ;  Beowulf ; 
Sigurd. 

LIST  OF   BOOKS  SUGGESTED  FOR  THE  STORY 

TELLER  .     226 


Xll 


INTRODUCTION 

rilHE  fresh  appreciation  of  childhood, 
•*•  which  is  one  of  the  most  outstanding 
features  of  our  generation,  has  brought  with 
it  a  revival  of  interest  in  the  literary  materi- 
als on  which  the  childhood  of  the  race  has 
been  nourished.  At  the  very  moment  when 
the  outpouring  volume  of  modern  writing  on 
every  theme,  coming  like  a  veritable  Niagara 
from  the  press,  was  in  danger  of  flooding  out 
the  classics  and  the  earlier  folk-lore  of  the 
world,  suddenly  the  child  appears,  and  with 
insistent  persuasion  leads  us  back  to  the 
morning-time  of  literature,  where  he  and  all 
who  have  the  childlike  spirit  must  ever  love 
to  go. 

No  movement  of  recent  years  is  more  sig- 
nificant in  the  field  of  education  than  the  re- 
vival of  interest  in  story  telling  as  a  fine 
art.  That  delightful  occupation  which  was 
the  pastime  of  motherhood,  in  days  before 
the  lives  of  children  were  hemmed  in  by  such 
13 


.  .........    INTRODUCTION 

a  multitude  of  interests — many  of  them  of 
questionable  value  —  has  now  become  a 
serious  and  impressive  vocation,  to  be  fol- 
lowed not  only  by  mothers,  but  by  teachers, 
librarians,  and  specialists  who  have  brought 
the  art  to  a  high  level  of  effectiveness. 

And  this  enthusiastic  labor  of  the  inter- 
preters of  great  stories  takes  us  back  in 
memory  to  the  dawn  of  that  glorious  awak- 
ening of  the  world  of  which  our  modern  age  is 
the  fortunate  heir.  For  the  forerunners  of 
the  Renaissance  were  the  troubadours,  min- 
nesingers, bards,  and  minstrels,  who  aroused 
in  the  soul  of  a  slumbering  Europe  the  sense 
of  nobler  living  in  a  time  when  Church  and 
State  were  both  asleep.  Are  not  our  story 
tellers,  who  are  calling  our  age  back  to  the 
poems  and  romances  that  nourished  the 
strong  and  adventurous  youth  of  the  world, 
the  true  pioneers  of  a  new  revival  of  learn- 
ing, in  which  not  only  the  mind  and  emotions, 
but  the  social  and  civic  conscience,  the  will 
and  purpose  of  the  race,  are  to  share? 

The  telling  of  noble  stories  is  one  of  the 
most  effective  methods  of  furnishing  child- 
hood with  the  literary  materials  which  all 
14 


INTRODUCTION 

well-informed  people  must  know,  and  for 
which  later  years  afford  so  small  a  margin 
of  time.  The  child  wants  the  story.  He 
wants  the  fairy  tale,  the  world-legend,  the 
adventures  of  the  hero  of  mythology,  or  of 
his  own  national  experience.  He  wants  the 
story  vividly  told,  with  all  its  struggle,  its 
carnage,  its  cruelty,  and  its  bravery.  More 
than  this,  he  wants  it  always  in  the  same 
form.  Once  its  lilt  and  rhythm  have  caught 
his  attention,  he  wants  it  repeated  in  just 
that  form.  To  change  its  sentences,  to  mod- 
ify its  phrases,  is  to  vitiate  it  in  his  regard. 
The  value  of  this  quality  as  an  aid  in  the 
memorization  of  the  best  literature  by  the 
child  is  instantly  apparent  to  those  who  are 
charged  with  his  training. 

But  the  ethical  value  of  story  telling  is 
even  more  impressive.  It  is  not  through 
formal  instruction  that  a  child  receives  his 
impulses  toward  virtue,  honor,  and  courtesy. 
It  is  rather  from  such  appeal  to  the  emo- 
tions as  can  be  made  most  effectively  through 
the  telling  of  a  story.  The  inculcation  of  a 
duty  leaves  him  passionless  and  unmoved. 
The  narrative  of  an  experience  in  which  that 
15 


INTRODUCTION 

same  virtue  finds  concrete  embodiment  fires 
him  with  the  desire  to  try  the  same  conduct 
for  himself.  Few  children  fail  to  make  the 
immediate  connection  between  the  hero  or 
heroine  of  the  story  and  themselves.  An  ad- 
venture told  to  a  child  is  never  an  objective 
thing,  but  a  personal  experience  as  it  goes 
forward.  The  frank  generosity  of  Robin 
Hood,  the  hardy  prowess  of  the  Cid,  the 
courageous  endurance  of  Ulysses,  the  stain- 
less character  of  King  Arthur,  are  all  trans- 
lated by  the  child  into  personal  qualities  of 
his  own  life,  to  mar  which  would  be  dis- 
loyalty to  his  heroes. 

It  is  one  thing,  however,  to  have  some  ap- 
preciation of  these  facts  as  aids  in  the  train- 
ing of  children,  and  quite  a  different  thing 
to  know  where  to  find  suitable  material  for 
this  purpose,  and  the  method  by  which  it 
may  be  organized  for  effective  use.  The  lit- 
erature which  attempts  to  give  suggestion 
regarding  these  two  problems  is  rapidly  in- 
creasing, as  the  vital  character  of  the  theme 
is  perceived.  But  none  of  the  works  thus 
far  provided  deals  with  the  matter  in  just 
the  concise,  direct,  and  suggestive  manner 
16 


INTRODUCTION 

in  which  the  author  of  this  book  treats  it. 
She  comes  to  her  task  with  the  training  of  a 
teacher,  the  experience  of  a  librarian,  the 
discipline  of  several  years  of  most  successful 
work  in  the  new  vocation  of  a  trained  story 
teller,  and,  above  all,  with  the  enthusiasm 
which  only  the  lover  of  a  great  and  inspiring 
Work  can  bring  to  such  an  enterprise. 

It  is  out  of  such  ample  store  that  she 
brings  us  these  things  new  and  old.  With 
marked  singleness  of  purpose  she  has  chosen 
a  very  modest,  yet  very  vital,  section  of  the 
total  field  in  which  she  is  so  skilful  a  worker. 
She  has  undertaken  to  provide  in  the  most 
concise  manner  the  very  suggestions  which 
the  parent  or  teacher,  untrained  in  the  tech- 
nique of  the  art  of  story  telling,  needs  most 
to  know.  In  so  doing  she  has  placed  all 
lovers  of  the  child  under  obligations  to  her. 
This  book  will  bring  to  many  seekers  of  the 
inner  path  to  the  child  life  the  direction  for 
which  they  have  wished. 

HERBERT   L.    WILLETT. 

THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CHICAGO. 


17 


STORY  TELLING 

WHAT  TO  TELL  AND   HOW  TO  TELL  IT 


CHAPTER    I 

RESPONSIBILITY    OF    SOCIETY   FOE   WHAT    CHILDREN 
READ 

rr^HE  most  potent  influences  in  the  devel- 
•*•  opment  of  the  life  of  the  child  are  ex- 
erted through  the  home,  through  educational 
institutions,  and  through  social  environment. 
For  the  first  five  years  of  the  child's  life 
the  home  has  practically  exclusive  direction 
of  his  physical  life,  his  moral  training,  his 
play,  or  his  occupation.  An  educator  of  wide 
reputation  recently  stated  that,  if  at  the 
end  of  the  sixth  year  the  child  has  not  ac- 
quired self-control  and  a  fair  ability  to  be  an 
agreeable  member  of  society,  it  is  the  fault 
of  the  home.  A  failure  to  arrive  at  such  a 
happy  state  of  affairs  may  be  due  to  economic 
or  social  conditions  back  of  the  home,  but 
normally  this  responsibility  for  the  care  and 
training  of  children  lies  with  the  parents. 
19 


STORY    TELLING 

At  five  the  school  steps  in  and  for  several 
hours  each  day  assumes  control  of  the  dis- 
cipline and  occupation  of  the  child,  so  that 
the  home  is  no  longer  entirely  responsible 
for  its  offspring,  but  divides  the  responsibility 
with  this  new  agency.  Neither  school  nor 
home  alone  can  now  be  held  accountable  for 
what  the  child  becomes,  for  each  has  its  in- 
fluence, felt  not  only  during  the  hours  of 
its  specific  environment,  but  quite  as  much 
during  the  period  when  the  child  has  gone 
out  from  its  immediate  dictum.  It  is  for 
this  reason  that  any  lack  of  the  spirit  of 
cooperation  between  parents  and  teachers  is 
to  be  so  greatly  deplored.  If  the  standards 
and  ideals  of  home  and  school  could  be  identi- 
cal, no  time  would  be  lost  in  the  work  of  their 
realization. 

No  sooner  has  the  school  entered  into  the 
life  of  the  child  as  a  factor  in  his  development 
than  we  may  logically  say  the  third  force  of 
destiny  begins  its  work.  Contact  with  the  ele- 
ments which  make  the  social  environment  of 
the  child  becomes  an  influence  to  be  reckoned 
with  as  soon  as  he  steps  out  of  the  home  into 
the  world. 

20 


RESPONSIBILITY    OF    SOCIETY 

The  life  of  the  street  and  the  playground, 
the  influence  of  employment  or  recreation, 
help  to  mould  his  character  as  definitely  and 
often  more  unalterably  than  the  precepts  of 
the  home  or  the  teaching  of  the  schools.  It 
makes  little  difference  that  society  does  not 
recognize  either  its  responsibility  or  its  privi- 
lege in  thus  forming  humanity;  the  charges 
which  must  be  made  for  certain  existent  con- 
ditions materially  modifying,  sometimes  alto- 
gether changing  the  outcome  of  the  child's 
life,  can  be  brought  nowhere  but  to  the  door 
of  society. 

We  recognize  this  fact  when  we  pass  laws 
dictating  the  limitations  of  employers  of  la- 
bor, and  demanding  the  freedom  from  labor 
which  is  the  child's  right;  in  the  same  way 
society  recognizes  its  power  to  provide  proper 
conditions  for  the  physical  development  of 
its  children  when,  through  its  municipalities, 
it  establishes  public  playgrounds  and  public 
baths.  Specific  instances  of  this  character 
seem  to  awaken  the  public,  so  called,  to  the 
fact  that  with  it  lies  not  only  the  cause  for 
evil  conditions,  but  also  the  remedy  and  the 
power  to  make  real  the  ideals  it  cherishes. 


STORY    TELLING 

We  can  no  longer  work  upon  a  basis  which 
assumes  that  the  home  has  to  do  with  one 
part  of  a  child's  life,  the  school  with  another, 
and  which  disregards  society  altogether.  So- 
ciety is  responsible  for  the  child,  and  must 
therefore  recognize  the  interdependence  of  its 
various  constituents. 

We  have  suggested  that  the  constituents  of 
society  are  all  accountable  for  the  physical 
environment  and  condition  of  the  child  —  that 
they  must  see  to  it  that  men  and  women  are 
produced  physically  equal  to  the  work  of 
the  coming  generation.  If  we  do  not  give 
our  children  proper  conditions  for  living,  — 
pure  air,  pure  water,  and  pure  food,  —  they 
are  not  properly  equipped  to  begin  the  real 
living  which  is  before  them.  If  we  fail  to 
recognize  that  play  is  an  essential  to  their 
normal  development,  and  that,  as  we  cut  off 
the  opportunity  for  it,  we  dwarf  the  capa- 
bilities of  mature  life,  we  have  ourselves  to 
blame  for  the  type  of  manhood  we  supply  to 
the  world. 

The  problem  of  the  proper  discipline  of 
the  child  rests  with  the  home  while  it  cares 
for  him  exclusively,  but  the  school  takes 


RESPONSIBILITY    OF    SOCIETY 

charge  of  him  for  a  large  per  cent  of  his 
time  during  many  years  of  his  life,  and 
the  school  must  accept  its  share  of  the 
burden. 

Once  more,  society  at  large  is  answerable 
for  the  manner  in  which  the  child  learns  to 
know  his  relationship  to  municipality,  State, 
and  country  as  they  directly  or  indirectly 
touch  his  life,  and  is  also  to  be  held  account- 
able for  its  methods  of  discipline  where  rights 
and  laws  have  been  disregarded.  Each  and 
all,  as  members  of  society,  are  our  brothers' 
keepers ;  and  lawlessness,  immorality,  and 
crime  may  fairly  turn  to  respectable,  moral, 
and  law-abiding  citizenship  to  inquire  why 
they  exist. 

In  moments  of  sanity,  we  all  admit  that 
education  has  as  its  fundamental  purpose  to 
teach  men  to  live,  rather  than  to  help  them 
merely  to  acquire  knowledge.  Experience  is 
the  really  valuable  thing  in  life,  and  since  it 
is  necessary  to  begin  living  with  a  very  small 
basis  of  experience,  we  gain  much  if  we  accept 
that  of  others,  for  at  least  an  experimental 
basis. 

It  is  the  wonderful  power  which  books  have 
23 


STORY    TELLING 

of  presenting  experience,  picturing  life  in  its 
manifold  relations  and  infinite  variety,  that 
gives  their  supreme  value  as  a  supplement  to, 
I  might  almost  say  a  substitute  for,  formal 
education. 

The  word  books  is  used  in  the  sense  of  liter- 
ature, and  not  merely  printed  pages,  and  the 
time  has  come  when  it  is  necessary  to  distin- 
guish in  the  minds  of  some  between  the  two. 
As  a  people  we  have  not  outgrown  the  atti- 
tude of  reverence  which  mere  print  inspires 
in  the  minds  of  the  recently  educated.  We 
have  made  a  fetish  of  printing ;  we  have  pride 
in  our  education,  but  we  have  not  arrived 
where  culture  takes  education  for  granted 
and  discriminates  between  the  ephemeral  out- 
put of  the  press  and  the  book  of  permanent 
value. 

The  home  has  recognized  the  value  of  read- 
ing as  a  part  of  the  education  of  the  child, 
and  has  placed  him  under  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  school  that  he  may  acquire  the  mechanical 
ability  to  read.  The  question  naturally  arises, 
What  shall  he  read  when  he  has  acquired  the 
ability  ?  —  and  neither  home  nor  school  can 
settle  the  question  finally,  because  once  more 
24 


RESPONSIBILITY    OF    SOCIETY 

the  attitude  of  society  enters  into  the  answer 
to  the  question. 

Society  has  accepted  the  public  library  as 
a  solution  of  the  matter  and  says,  "  Here  is 
an  agency  which  shall  represent  us,  properly 
equipped  to  meet  the  problem  of  reading  for 
children,  not  only  by  supplying  the  books, 
but  also  by  making  suggestions  concerning 
such  books,  and  influencing  so  far  as  possible 
the  reading  taste  of  the  community." 

This  solution  at  first  seems  all  that  could 
be  desired  until  we  analyze  the  real  conditions, 
and  then  we  realize  that  it  is  impossible  for 
the  library  alone  fully  to  represent  society  in 
these  respects,  since  at  the  same  time  society 
is  equally  responsible  for  the  many  other 
agencies  for  supplying  books  to  the  public. 
Under  present  conditions,  the  libraries  are 
unable  to  master  the  situation,  for  they  are 
limited  as  to  funds  not  only  for  providing  a 
proper  number  of  books,  but  also  for  main- 
taining a  staff  of  skilled  workers  with  ability 
to  select  and  recommend  the  books. 

As  long  as  children  eager  to  read  are 
greeted  by  empty  shelves  or  meagre  numbers 
of  books  in  the  libraries,  society  is  defeat- 
25 


STORY    TELLING 

ing  its  own  claims,  and  strengthening  the 
defeat  by  offering  through  regular  book 
houses,  and  other  commercial  sources,  not 
only  mediocre  books,  but  books  of  a  posi- 
tively pernicious  character.  Society  allows 
those  who  control  the  corner  cigar  store,  the 
general  supply  store,  the  news  stand,  the  com- 
mercial circulating  library,  and  those  seek- 
ing to  make  money  by  appealing  to  the  lower 
instincts  of  boys  and  girls  to  supply  reading 
matter  for  its  children ;  meanwhile  congratu- 
lating itself  that  the  establishment  of  public 
libraries  equipped  to  reach  only  a  small  per 
cent  of  the  public  cancels  its  obligations.  So- 
ciety is,  after  all,  composed  of  individuals,  and 
it  is  the  attitude  and  indifference  of  individu- 
als which  create  a  condition  so  to  be  deplored. 
The  home  and  the  school  are  elements  of 
organized  society,  and  as  such  must  bear  their 
part  of  the  humiliation  for  the  present  state 
of  affairs ;  and  parents  and  teachers  are  as 
much  to  be  blamed  for  failing  to  provide  in- 
spiring, uplifting,  and  ennobling  books,  as  for 
failing  to  supply  pure  milk  for  babies  or 
proper  open-air  spaces  in  which  children  may 
play. 

26 


RESPONSIBILITY    OF    SOCIETY 

The  children  of  the  State  are  our  chil- 
dren, without  regard  to  the  fact  of  parent- 
hood. They  are  the  greatest  asset  of  any 
commonwealth,  and  as  such  are  to  be  reared 
in  such  a  physical,  mental,  and  moral  envi- 
ronment that  they  shall  come  to  manhood 
and  womanhood,  strong  and  pure  in  body, 
in  mind,  and  in  soul. 

The  ideals  which  children  gain  from  books 
are  their  constant  associates  and  mould  their 
characters  even  more  than  human  compan- 
ions. They  live  with  them  not  only  while 
they  read,  but  while  they  are  otherwise  en- 
gaged; and  suggestions  so  subtle  as  to  pass 
almost  unnoticed  linger  in  the  mind,  to  in- 
fluence emotions  and  express  themselves  in 
actions. 

Books  are  the  backgrounds  of  their  wak- 
ing dreams,  and  as  surely  as  children  read, 
just  as  surely  do  they  imitate  the  heroes  whom 
they  find  in  their  books.  Judgment  they  do 
not  possess,  life  they  do  not  know,  experience 
is  all  before  them,  one  book  is  as  desirable  as 
another,  provided  only  it  has  the  power  to 
hold.  If  we  tolerate  books  where  moral  cow- 
ardice takes  the  guise  of  physical  courage, 
27 


STORY    TELLING 

trickery  and  dishonesty  seem  like  cleverness, 
books  in  which  opposition  to  law  and  order 
is  made  to  look  like  heroism,  and  the  great 
facts  of  life  and  love  something  to  be  con- 
cealed and  misused  instead  of  cherished  and 
honored,  how  are  we  to  expect  the  readers  of 
these  books  to  acquire  high  standards  of 
honesty,  moral  courage,  and  true  manliness? 

If  we  tolerate  even  the  commonplace 
type  of  books,  lacking  in  strength  and  viril- 
ity, poor  in  presentation,  uncertain  in  moral 
tone,  and  insipid  in  character,  we  can  expect 
nothing  strong  or  fine  as  a  result  of  its 
influence.  We  are  loath  to  admit  this.  It 
is  far  easier  to  argue  against  the  really  evil 
book  than  against  the  kind  commonly  termed 
"  harmless."  But  if  surroundings  either  of 
a  material  character  or  of  ideas  really  have 
any  influence  upon  the  human  mind,  then  we 
may  fairly  agree  that  mediocrity  will  breed 
mediocrity  with  as  great  certainty  as  evil 
will  produce  evil. 

Every  year  public  schools  are  turning  out 

thousands   of  children   able  to   read.      They 

may  not  be  attracted  to  books   in  general, 

but  read  they  will,  sometime  or  somewhere, 

28 


RESPONSIBILITY    OF    SOCIETY 

and  when  that  time  comes  it  is  society  that 
is  responsible  for  what  those  children  read. 

The  homes  are  not  equipped  to  solve  the 
matter.  The  school  stands  as  a  strong  factor 
in  influencing  the  character  of  what  the  child 
reads,  but  it  is  so  occupied  with  the  accom- 
plishment of  tasks  that  these  come  to  be  the 
significant  thing.  Many  teachers  are  famil- 
iar only  with  the  literature  which  relates  to 
the  grade  they  teach,  and  do  not  see  how 
vital  it  is  to  make  each  grade  a  link  in  the 
great  chain  of  what  has  gone  before  and 
what  is  to  follow. 

While  parents  remain  unconcerned  as  to 
the  relative  importance  of  carefully  selected 
clothes  and  thoughtfully  selected  books, 
while  schools  lay  emphasis  on  the  side  of 
education  which  will  bring  the  most  rapid 
return  in  dollars  and  cents,  it  would  seem 
that  the  library,  that  agency  of  society  most 
alert  to  the  necessity  of  cultivating  a  love 
of  literature  in  children,  must  make  a  greater 
effort  to  solve  the  problem  of  reaching  larger 
numbers  and  effectively  introducing  them  to 
the  world's  great  books. 

The  call  of  the  child's  need  has  been  heard 
29 


STORY    TELLING 

by  a  very  few ;  by  them  it  must  be  answered, 
while  they  in  their  turn  cry  aloud  to  the 
great  body  of  society  of  which  they  are  but 
a  part,  "  Our  children  cry  for  bread ;  will 
you  give  them  a  stone?  " 


30 


CHAPTER  II 

BEADING    ALOUD    TO    CHILDREN 

Influence  of  reading  aloud  ;  the  "  reading  story  hour  "  in  the 
public  library;  suggestions  for  books  and  selections  to 
read. 

TN  the  good  old  days,  to  which  occasionally 
•*•  we  must  hark  back,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  the  home  was  the  field  of  more  varied 
occupations  than  at  present,  and  that  it  was 
impossible  to  command  much  assistance  from 
outside,  there  must  have  been  a  leisure  of 
mind  which  is  almost  unknown  to  us  now. 
Whether  it  is  the  greater  ease  with  which  we 
are  conveyed  from  one  spot  on  the  earth  to  a 
far  distant  one,  and  the  rate  of  speed  which  is 
ours  to  command,  that  has  affected  our  men- 
tal attitude  so  that  we  feel  the  necessity  ot 
equal  rapidity  in  all  we  do,  certain  it  is  that 
things  which  once  had  a  place  in  our  lives 
are  now  crowded  out  on  the  plea  that  there 
is  no  time  for  them.  It  is  to  be  greatly  re- 
gretted that  among  the  things  which  have 
31 


STORY    TELLING 

been  pushed  aside  and  almost  entirely  neg- 
lected is  the  gentle  art  of  reading  aloud. 

Not  long  ago,  a  man  who  knows  success 
gave  me  a  glimpse  into  the  not  far  distant 
past,  when  his  father  and  mother  were  pio- 
neers in  our  Middle  West.  Among  the  experi- 
ences of  his  boyhood  which  he  recounted  was 
that  of  reading  aloud,  when  his  mother  chose 
some  volume  from  the  small  hoard  of  books 
which  she  had  brought  from  old  Virginia, 
and  together  mother  and  son  read  and  talked 
beside  the  fire  in  the  old  log  cabin.  There 
was  no  duty  which  her  hands  were  not  called 
upon  to  do,  yet  she  found  time  to  read  aloud 
to  her  boy  that  so  he  might  come  to  know 
the  authors  whom  she  prized.  One  could 
not  but  feel  that  something  of  the  son's  suc- 
cess was  due  to  a  mother  who  so  truly  recog- 
nized comparative  values. 

When  speaking  to  a  friend  of  the  mar- 
vellous use  of  words  which  has  made  her  son 
a  lecturer  of  unusual  eloquence,  she  replied 
without  hesitation,  "  Yes,  the  poets  that  we 
read  aloud  together  taught  him  words."  In 
still  another  home  it  was  not  freedom  from 
care  and  anxiety  or  the  leisure  that  money 


READING  ALOUD  TO  CHILDREN 

can  command  which  made  the  story-hour 
one  of  the  things  which  linger  in  the  mem- 
ory. There  was  no  time  for  books  that  were 
trivial,  but  those  which  live  from  one  gen- 
eration to  another  found  place  for  them- 
selves, and  ears  eager  to  hear.  Together, 
father  and  mother  and  children  went  slowly 
over  the  pages,  which  were  not  only  a  joy 
while  the  voice  sounded  the  words,  but  have 
ever  since  had  a  glamour  which  no  other  lit- 
erature can  possibly  possess. 

To  the  most  of  us,  children  as  well  as 
grown-ups,  the  joy  that  is  shared  is  twice 
joy,  and  nowhere  is  this  more  true  than  in 
the  book  which  is  read  with  some  one  of  like 
taste. 

If  those  who  are  seeking  to  influence  the 
reading  tastes  of  children  could  only  realize 
how  potent  a  means  lies  in  this  simple  method, 
they  would  hasten  to  revive  this  long  neg- 
lected art. 

The  search  is  for  something  new,  and  for 
that  very  reason  there  is  a  failure  to  recog- 
nize the  efficiency  of  what  is  already  possessed. 
Yet  the  child's  eagerness  to  listen  to  anything 
we  are  willing  to  read  ought  to  be  a  constant 
33 


STORY    CELLING 

reminder  that  here  is  our  opportunity  to 
make  him  familiar  with  the  books  which  he 
himself  would  never  open. 

Much  of  the  great  literature  of  the  world 
has  failed  to  reach  children  because  they  have 
never  come  in  contact  with  it,  or  if  they 
have  seen  these  books  they  have  been  titles 
merely.  Every  day  of  their  lives  a  personal 
appeal  comes  from  someone  to  read  this  or 
that  book,  thrilling  in  title,  and  set  forth  in 
graphic  verb&l  picture  by  the  recent  reader's 
enthusiasm.  When  such  books  are  made  so 
alluring,  why  venture  in  untrodden  paths? 

Children  are  at  heart  conservatives ;  they 
prefer  to  do  as  generations  before  them  have 
done.  There  must  be  a  leader,  then  there 
will  be  numberless  followers.  Who  of  us  has 
not  witnessed  the  agony  which  the  child  feels 
who  is  forced  to  wear  clothes  unlike  those  of 
his  mates  ?  What  the  "  crowd  "  wears  and 
does  and  reads  is  what  each  desires  to  wear 
and  do  and  read  in  his  turn. 

If  we  can  accept  this  condition  as  the  basis 

of  our  efforts ;  if  we  can  either  catch  the  most 

venturesome  spirit  long  enough  to  gain  his 

interest,  or  win  the  crowd,  as  a  crowd,  and 

34 


READING  ALOUD  TO  CHILDREN 

bring  them  to  a  knowledge  of  the  real  life 
which  lies  behind  the  titles  of  unfamiliar 
books,  we  shall  in  the  end  accomplish  our 
purpose. 

As  we  have  suggested,  the  first  appeal 
which  reading  aloud  makes  to  children  is 
doubtless  the  delight  they  feel  in  sharing  a 
common  interest.  The  feeling,  though  un- 
analyzed,  is  gratification  and  pleasure  that 
the  book  appeals  sufficiently  to  the  older 
person,  so  that  it  is  worth  while  to  read  word 
for  word. 

The  appreciation  of  the  reader  adds  to  the 
grasp  of  the  listener,  unhampered  by  the 
mechanical  difficulties  of  reading  which  usu- 
ally beset  him,  and  often  the  opportunity  for 
a  laugh  together  makes  a  bond  of  sympathy 
which  no  other  contact  could  afford. 

"  Then  read  from  the  treasured  volume 

The  poem  of  thy  choice, 
And  lend  to  the  rhyme  of  the  poet 

The   beauty   of  thy  voice." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  specifically 
that  when  the  child  has  made  the  acquain- 
tance  of  books    of   real   merit   and   literary 
value    they    will    unconsciously    become    the 
35 


STORY    TELLING 

standard  by  which  he  measures  the  books  of 
his  future  choice.  Personally,  I  have  great 
faith  in  the  unspoiled  instincts  of  children, 
and  I  think,  when  once  they  have  felt  the 
beat  of  a  great  story  of  adventure  or  the 
charm  of  one  of  the  genuine  folk  stories, 
they  turn  from  the  imitation,  feeling  its  un- 
reality for  themselves.  They  instinctively 
feel  what  the  boy  tried  to  express  when  he 
turned  away  from  ineffective  rendering  in 
prose  of  the  Robin  Hood  ballads,  and  said, 
"  No,  I  want  the  book  about  the  real  Robin 
Hood." 

The  influence  of  beautiful  English  is  also 
worthy  of  consideration.  Modern  books  are 
put  together  with  little  regard  for  style  or 
use  of  words,  and  careless  writing  is  followed 
by  careless  reading,  so  that  there  is  little 
gain  to  the  child  from  the  time  he  has  spent 
with  many  books.  It  is  generally  admitted 
that  the  child  acquires  his  vocabulary  much 
more  rapidly  by  hearing  the  words  than  by 
seeing  them.  Here,  then,  is  an  added  value 
which  results  from  the  practice  of  reading 
aloud  to  children.  They  become  familiar 
with  the  use  of  the  best  English,  with  new 
36 


READING  ALOUD  TO  CHILDREN 

words  and  combinations  to  which  they  are 
unaccustomed. 

The  poverty  of  English  found  in  the  aver- 
age home,  the  constant  use  of  slang  expres- 
sions on  the  street  and  the  playground,  the 
influence  of  the  tide  of  immigration  with  its 
foreign  tongues  should  make  us  realize  that 
if  we  have  any  regard  for  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  expressive  languages  in  the 
world,  we  must  take  some  positive  stand  to 
prevent  its  deterioration. 

It  has  been  well  said,  "  What  you  make 
a  child  love  and  desire  is  more  important 
than  what  you  make  him  learn."  It  is  as  he 
loves  noble  English  that  he  will  use  it;  it  is 
as  he  cherishes  the  books  read  to  him  that  he 
will  desire  others  of  a  similar  character;  it 
is  as  the  reader's  enthusiasm  puts  life  and 
forcefulness,  or  cleverness  and  daring  into 
the  pages  read,  that  they  will  captivate  his 
emotions  and  stimulate  him  to  imitation. 

No  argument  is  half  so  convincing  as  a 
little  experience.  On  every  side  one  hears 
confirming  testimony  which  points  to  the 
splendid  influence  of  reading  aloud  to  chil- 
dren. No  one  questions  the  value  of  time  so 
37 


STORY    TELLING 

used.  What  then  shall  we  say  of  the  spirit 
of  the  modern  home  which  finds  no  time  to 
gratify  or  cultivate  this  taste?  Something 
surely  is  wrong  when  clubs,  or  recreation,  or 
philanthropy,  or  social  intercourse,  or  bus- 
iness, or  even  household  duties,  are  allowed 
to  usurp  the  portion  of  time  which  should  go 
to  the  training  of  the  mental  life  of  the  child. 
There  is  a  duty  in  this  respect  which  parents 
owe  their  children  that  they  cannot  delegate 
to  any  one  else.  There  are  values  to  the 
child  of  a  positive  nature  which  come  from 
associating  this  delightful  practice  with  his 
home  and  his  family  circle,  and  for  the  loss 
of  this  there  can  be  no  possible  compensa- 
tion. This  is  a  duty,  and  should  be  a  pleas- 
ure, which  fathers  might  well  assume,  since 
there  is  so  small  a  realm  where  they  can  cul- 
tivate the  spirit  of  companionship  with  their 
children.  There  has  been  much  amusement 
over  the  old  story  of  the  child  who  referred  to 
his  father  as  "  the  man  who  stays  here  Sun- 
days " ;  yet  there  is  ground1  for  considering 
whether  the  fathers  of  this  country  should 
not  have  some  other  relation  to  their  children 
than  that  of  the  source  of  financial  support. 
38 


READING  ALOUD  TO  CHILDREN 

The  school  has  already  established  to  a 
certain  extent  the  habit  of  reading  aloud, 
sometimes  as  a  reward  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  tasks,  and  sometimes  with  the  delib- 
erate intention  of  giving  the  children  a  wider 
view  of  some  subject  or  introducing  them  to 
outside  reading. 

The  busy  teacher  who  is  wise  enough  to 
recognize  the  return  she  gets  for  this  from 
the  children  in  the  spirit  of  companionship, 
enlarged  interests,  added  force  to  think,  and 
increased  vocabulary  is  greatly  to  be  con- 
gratulated. There  is  an  unwise  tendency 
among  certain  teachers  to  read  to  the  chil- 
dren books  not  only  of  ephemeral  character 
but  those  absolutely  lacking  in  merit,  when 
the  child  is  entitled  to  the  best.  The  eager- 
ness of  children  to  hear  what  one  is  willing 
to  read  is  itself  an  opportunity  for  intro- 
ducing something  which  requires  thought  in- 
stead of  merely  affording  entertainment.  It 
is  worth  while  to  ask  this  eager  mind  to  reach 
up  out  of  the  trend  of  his  ordinary  thoughts, 
and  to  give  him  something  to  "  ponder  in  his 
heart." 

There  should  be  a  portion  of  the  selections 
39 


STORY    TELLING 

which  are  made  to  be  read  aloud  that  remain 
free  from  any  connection  with  a  task.  There 
is  material  enough  for  reproduction  without 
using  this ;  and  half  of  the  gain  to  the  child, 
all  of  his  real  love  for  what  he  is  hearing,  will 
be  lost  in  his  sense  of  impending  doom. 
•  As  far  as  libraries  are  concerned,  it  seems 
strange  that  with  all  their  eagerness  to  bring 
the  book  and  the  child  into  successful  contact 
they  have  so  often  disregarded  this  simplest 
of  methods.  They  have  been  over-anxious,  it 
would  seem,  to  incorporate  story  telling  as 
a  regular  feature  of  their  work  with  children, 
and  have  failed  to  realize  that  a  "story- 
hour  "  utilized  for  good  reading  has  far  bet- 
ter results  than  twice  that  time  devoted  to 
inferior  story  telling. 

Many  people  either  on  a  library  staff  or 
outside  are  very  acceptable  readers,  and  have 
a  wide  knowledge  of  books,  which  might  be 
put  at  the  service  of  the  library  if  only  they 
were  asked  to  do  what  they  can  do  instead  of 
required  to  do  that  for  which  they  have  no 
training. 

It  would  seem  wise  in  a  library  story-hour 
not  to  attempt  to  read  an  entire  book  as  we 
40 


READING   ALOUD   TO   CHILDREN 

would  naturally  do  at  home  or  in  school,  but 
to  take  up  such  portions  of  it  as  will  arouse 
the  curiosity  of  the  child,  or  get  him  well 
started  on  a  long  and  difficult  opening. 

The  greatest  cause  of  the  failures  which 
are  experienced  in  these  special  phases  of 
library  work  are  due  to  hasty  preparation  or 
to  the  lack  of  any  preparation  at  all.  One 
may  occasionally  reap  the  reward  of  in- 
spiration, when  out  of  the  enthusiasm  of  a 
conversation  or  the  appeal  of  a  situation,  at 
the  psychological  moment  a  group  of  boys 
and  girls  is  gathered  together  and  their  at- 
tention is  arrested  by  exactly  the  right  story ; 
but  ordinarily  the  carefully  prepared  plan 
carries  much  better. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  thrust  the  machinery 
of  the  drama  into  view,  but  the  actor  who  re- 
lies on  principle  rather  than  on  inspiration 
is  less  likely  to  be  overwhelmed  when  the  in- 
spiration is  not  there. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  suggest  how  large 
an  element  the  beauty  of  the  voice  is  in  the 
delight  which  people  feel  when  listening  to 
reading.  Children  are  quite  as  sensitive  as 
grown  people  to  quality  of  tone  and  pitch,  to 
41 


STORY    TELLING 

distinct  enunciation,  and  to  artistic  expres- 
sion. Judging  from  the  examples  of  style 
which  one  hears,  not  only  in  the  schoolroom 
but  in  the  club  and  elsewhere,  it  would  seem 
that  foreigners  are  entirely  justified  in  the 
criticism  of  what  they  term  the  "  American 
voice."  The  disregard  for  punctuation  and 
the  habitual  argumentative  and  dictatorial 
style  of  reading  are  extremely  monotonous 
and  inexpressive.  Down  go  the  voices  like  so 
many  hammers,  at  every  comma,  semicolon, 
colon,  or  period.  It  would  be  impossible  in 
most  cases  in  this  country  to  punctuate  cor- 
rectly from  dictation  as  is  the  custom  every- 
where in  France.  A  little  thought  as  to  the 
relation  of  punctuation  and  expression,  and 
an  effort  to  visualize  the  pictures  as  we  read, 
will  do  much  toward  giving  color  and  expres- 
sion to  our  performance. 

A  knowledge  of  the  community,  and  of  the 
books  which  have  been  most  read,  is  an  in- 
dispensable background  for  effective  work. 
One  must  know  what  he  can  take  as  his 
"  point  of  contact "  before  he  can  success- 
fully approach  a  group  of  children  or  young 
people. 

42 


READING   ALOUD   TO   CHILDREN 

It  may  be  helpful  to  become  familiar  with 
the  lists  of  books  used  by  other  libraries  for 
reading  aloud,  but  they  ought  always  to  be 
treated  as  suggestions,  the  success  of  which 
may  be  due  somewhat  to  the  modified  condi- 
tions and  environment  in  each  particular 
case. 

Two  suggestive  lists  are  the  monthly  Bulle- 
tin of  the  Carnegie  Library  of  Pittsburgh, 
Vol.  lg,  No.  1,  Jan.  1907,  Reading  Circles 
for  Boys  and  Girls ;  and  Harriet  E.  Hassler's 
Graded  List  of  Stories  for  Reading  Aloud, 
Public  Library  Commission  of  Indiana,  1908, 
for  including  both  whole  books  and  selections, 
which  will  prove  stimulating  and  helpful,  par- 
ticularly in  the  beginning  of  the  effort  to  in- 
troduce children  to  books  in  this  way.  As 
growth  comes  through  experience,  there  will 
be  less  need  for  following  outlines  and  more 
ability  to  see  independently  what  is  worth 
using. 

Librarians  will  find  that  the  teachers  will 
greatly  appreciate  familiarity  with  school 
courses  of  study  and  supplementary  reading 
as  well  as  the  books  which  they  desire  to  read 
to  the  children,  so  that  the  school  work  shall 
43 


STORY    TELLING 

not  suffer  from  repetition  and  a  consequent 
lack  of  freshness. 

Not  only  must  the  story  itself  be  con- 
sidered, in  making  selections  for  reading 
aloud,  but  the  form  and  beauty  of  the  Eng- 
lish as  well,  though  there  are  occasions 
when  a  restless  group  of  children  who  are 
unused  to  listening  must  be  held  merely  by 
the  interest  of  the  plot. 

Such  books  and  stories  as  the  following 
seem  to  represent  worthy  examples  of  the 
things  desirable  for  reading  aloud:  Van 
Dyke's  "  Other  Wise  Man,"  Parkman's  "  Ore- 
gon Trail,"  "  Uncle  Remus's  Stories,"  Haw- 
thorne's "Great  Stone  Face,"  "Wonder 
Book,"  and  "  Tanglewood  Tales,"  Kale's 
"Man  Without  a  Country"  and  "In  His 
Name,"  Kingsley's  "  Greek  Heroes,"  Lamb's 
"  Tales  from  Shakespeare,"  Irving's  "  Rip 
Van  Winkle  "  and  "  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hol- 
low," portions  of  "  Gulliver's  Travels  "  and 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  Stein's  "  Gabriel  and 
the  Hour  Book,"  Dickens's  "  Christmas 
Carol,"  "Cricket  on  the  Hearth,"  and 
enough  of  many  of  the  other  novels  to  serve 
as  a  good  introduction,  perhaps  begin- 
44 


READING   ALOUD   TO   CHILDREN 

ning  with  "  Oliver  Twist  " ;  Raskin's  "  King 
of  the  Golden  River,"  Foe's  "Fall  of  the 
House  of  Usher,"  "  Gold  Bug,"  and  "  Pur- 
loined Letter,"  Scott's  "  Ivanhoe,"  "  Quentin 
Durward,"  and  "  Guy  Mannering,"  Mark 
Twain's  "  Prince  and  the  Pauper,"  and  Lan- 
ier's  editions  of  "  Froissart  "  and  "  Malory," 
Morris's  "  Sundering  Flood,"  "  Famous  Ad- 
ventures and  Escapes  of  the  Civil  War," 
Hughes's  "  Tom  Brown's  School  Days," 
Baldwin's  "  Golden  Age,"  which  is  an  excel- 
lent introduction  to  the  Odyssey,  F.  Hop- 
kinson  Smith's  "  Captain  Joe,"  La  Motte- 
Fouque's  "  Undine,"  and  Kipling's  "  Drums 
of  the  Fore  and  Aft." 

These  are  only  a  few  of  the  things  which 
will  supply  material  for  the  "  reading  story- 
hour,"  and  to  these  selections  of  prose  works 
it  is  important  to  add  a  great  deal  of  poetry. 
Often  it  is  quite  possible  to  find  poems  which 
relate  themselves  to  the  subject  of  the  story 
and  which  can  be  utilized  in  connection  with 
it. 

But  aside  from  this  incidental  use  of  po- 
etry, the  "  reading  story-hour  "  is  certainly 
the  place  where  the  children  may  learn  to 
45 


STORY    TELLING 

love  the  beauty  of  verse.  A  few  exceptional 
children  will  respond  quickly  to  the  rhythm 
and  pulse  of  poetry,  but  with  most  children 
who  have  passed  beyond  the  years  of  the 
greatest  appeal  of  imaginative  literature, 
the  response  will  be  to  the  narrative  element, 
and  it  will  be  necessary  to  select  poetry  in 
which  the  story  element  is  dominant. 

Nothing  supplies  this  element  more  per- 
fectly than  the  old  ballads  filled  as  they  are 
with  combat,  adventure,  and  romance,  with 
virtues  which  are  elemental,  perhaps,  but 
nevertheless  are  not  to  be  despised.  Cour- 
age, justice,  a  love  of  nature,  fairness,  pa- 
triotic devotion,  these  are  all  part  and 
parcel  of  ballad  literature,  and  if  rightly 
brought  to  the  attention  of  children,  will  be 
as  popular  as  they  were  among  the  people 
who  first  sung  them.  There  is  so  much  humor 
in  the  ballads  of  "  Robin  Hood,"  so  much 
spirit  and  thrill  to  Morris's  "  Sigurd  the 
Volsung,"  so  much  breadth  to  Joaquin  Mil- 
ler's "  Columbus,"  such  daring  and  courage 
in  Macaulay's  "  Lays,"  and  Longfellow's 
ballads,  so  much  adventure  and  romance  in 
Scott's  "  Lady  of  the  Lake  "  and  "  Lay  of 
46 


READING   ALOUD   TO   CHILDREN 

the  Last  Minstrel,"  that  if  there  is  any  music 
in  the  reader,  any  feeling  for  what  he  is  read- 
ing, any  response  to  the  spirit  of  the  great 
out-of-doors,  it  will  inevitably  be  reflected  in 
those  who  listen  to  him. 


47 


CHAPTER    in 

STORY    TELLING 

Revival  of  the  art ;  necessity  for  training ;  great  short  stories  ; 
Tolstoy's  "  Where  Love  Is,  There  God  Is  Also  "  a  type  ; 
difference  between  text  for  reading  and  one  for  telling  ; 
selection  of  stories  to  tell  from  the  "Jungle  Books." 

WITH  the  suddenness  of  a  storm  on  a 
small  lake  an  interest  in  story  telling 
has  recently  been  revived,  and  with  our  usual 
American  enthusiasm,  many  have  undertaken 
to  tell  stories  with  very  little  consideration  for 
what  the  art  is.  To  some  it  has  appealed  as 
a  pleasing  occupation,  to  others  as  a  new 
and  better  method  of  teaching  English,  by 
still  others  it  has  been  confused  with  the  art 
of  acting  or  that  of  impersonation,  but  seem- 
ingly to  few  has  it  been  revealed  as  an  art 
in  itself,  with  the  great  underlying  purpose 
of  all  art,  to  give  joy  to  the  world. 

Only    as    story    telling    is    given    its    real 
place  in  the  world  of  art  can  it  attain  its 
full  significance.     The  art  of  the  actor  is  a 
48 


STORY    TELLING 

means  of  our  understanding  a  masterpiece, 
like  Shakespeare,  better  as  literature,  but  it 
has  a  value  of  its  own  beyond  its  interpre- 
tation of  the  text  of  the  drama.  So  story 
telling  is  an  art  of  itself,  regardless  of  the 
material  which  it  presents  or  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  that  material.  It  must  give  de- 
light and  joy  in  itself  or  it  is  without 
justification,  no  matter  what  secondary  ob- 
jects seem  to  be  accomplished. 

All  that  has  been  said  of  the  value  of 
reading  aloud  to  children  as  a  means  of  cul- 
tivating literary  taste  and  appreciation, 
establishing  standards  of  language  and  ex- 
pression, and  giving  opportunity  for  as- 
sociating with  great  thoughts  and  ideals 
as  they  are  crystallized  in  books,  is,  if  any- 
thing, more  true  of  the  results  of  story  tell- 
ing, because  of  the  deeper  impression  created 
by  the  magnetic  quality  of  story  telling  and 
the  dramatic  power  of  the  story  teller. 

This  power  of  the  story  teller  lies  in  his 
opportunity  to  let  his  message  come  from  his 
eyes  as  well  as  his  lips,  a  thing  which  is  pos- 
sible since  he  has  neither  book  nor  memory 
of  printed  page  to  burden  him. 
49 


STORY    TELLING 

The  gift  of  telling  stories  is  an  endowment 
of  nature,  like  a  beautiful  voice  or  a  talent 
for  painting;  so  the  real  story  teller  can 
never  be  made,  either  by  hearing  a  course  of 
lectures  on  the  subject,  or  by  reading  a 
book  devoted  to  technique;  but  cultivation 
is  as  necessary  for  perfection  with  the  story 
teller  as  with  the  singer  or  the  painter. 
There  are  those  who  hold  that  training  of 
talent  is  a  dangerous  thing,  and  feel  that 
what  is  gained  in  technique  from  training  is 
lost  in  spontaneity  and  the  expression  of  the 
individual.  The  error  of  this  theory  lies  in 
the  fact  that  the  theorists  have  failed  to 
recognize  the  real  outcome  of  training. 

Training  leads  out  of  unconscious  self- 
expression  into  a  certain  self-consciousness, 
it  is  true,  but  true  art  comes  only  when  the 
training  has  gone  a  step  farther  and  made 
it  possible  to  lose  self-consciousness  again 
in  the  greatness  of  art.  Until  this  is  ac- 
complished there  is  still  need  of  training. 

A  book  on  the  art  of  story  telling  is  re- 
lated to  the  art  in  much  the  same  way  that  a 
grammar  is  to  the  writing  of  poetry,  a 
treatise  on  sculpture  to  a  statue  of  Michael 
50 


STORY    TELLING 

Angelo,  or  a  volume  on  how  to  play  the  piano 
to  a  performance  of  a  great  pianist.  Before 
it  can  take  a  place  as  an  element  of  training, 
there  must  be  the  spirit  and  artistry  of  the 
thing  itself  to  illuminate  any  treatise,  how- 
ever good.  Training  involves  the  study  of 
the  technique  of  the  use  of  the  voice  and  of 
gesture,  sources  for  stories,  selection  and 
preparation  of  material,  practice  in  actual 
presentation  of  stories,  and  not  least  im- 
portant, hearing  stories  told  by  artists,  the 
character  of  whose  work  may  unconsciously 
become  the  ideal  for  the  story  teller. 

In  this  day  of  willingness  to  attempt  any- 
thing, no  matter  how  slight  the  equipment, 
it  may  be  well  to  consider  the  time  which 
the  actor  in  France  takes  for  preparation. 
Seven  years  of  study  and  preparatory  work, 
we  are  told,  he  "feels  none  too  much  to  devote 
to  the  perfecting  of  his  art  before  he  shall 
appear  upon  the  stage  as  a  full-fledged  pro- 
fessional. It  is  no  wonder  that  such  rever- 
ence for  dramatic  art  and  such  standards 
of  training  have  produced  the  marvellous 
actors  of  France.  A  similar  regard  for  the 
art  of  story  telling  would  do  away  with  the 
51 


STORY    TELLING 

idea  that  anyone  can  become  a  story  teller  and 
would  induce  serious  thought  as  to  the  neces- 
sity of  training  and  proper  preparation  be- 
fore entering  the  field  of  the  professional 
story  teller. 

Outside  of  this  field,  however,  there  are 
those  who  have  been  invited  by  necessity  or 
expediency  or  inclination  into  the  paths  of 
story  telling,  as  an  adjunct  to  their  other 
work. 

The  purpose  of  this  book  is  not  in  any 
way  to  attempt  to  give  information  to  those 
who  have  devoted  both  time  and  study  to 
the  subject,  or  who  have  had  practical  expe- 
rience in  story  telling,  but  rather  to  make  a 
few  suggestions  to  those  mothers,  teachers, 
and  librarians  who  are  interested  in  its  use 
as  a  phase  of  another  occupation. 

My  observation  leads  me  to  believe  that 
average  mothers,  librarians,  and  teachers  are 
not  likely  to  have  much  time  at  their  disposal 
in  which  to  search  for  good  material  to  use. 
They  feel  the  necessity  for  using  stories  which 
can  be  easily  obtained  and  which  will  require 
the  least  possible  preparation  in  the  matter 
of  adaptation.  The  larger  the  list  of 
52 


STORY    TELLING 

"  sources  for  the  story  teller  "  and  "  books 
for  the  use  of  the  children,"  the  more  con- 
fusing it  seems,  and  they  are  not  familiar 
enough  with  versions  to  feel  that  they  can 
choose  from  that  standpoint,  however  schol- 
arly. 

It  is  the  desire  to  meet  such  a  need  that 
leads  to  the  suggestions  herein  included,  made 
from  a  personal  experience,  with  the  realiza- 
tion that  they  are  quite  unnecessary  for  the 
student  of  literature,  or  the  professional. 

Nothing  is  more  helpful  to  a  novice  in 
story  telling,  for  obtaining  familiarity  with 
the  principles  of  construction  and  the  essen- 
tial qualities  of  a  narration,  than  the  study 
of  a  few  of  the  world's  great  short  stories, 
such  as  Daudet's  "  Death  of  the  Dauphin," 
Hawthorne's  "  Great  Stone  Face,"  Kipling's 
"Man  Who  Would  Be  King,"  Dickens's 
"  Child's  Dream  of  a  Star,"  Stevenson's 
"  Markheim,"  Maupassant's  "  Necklace  " 
and  his  "  Coward,"  Balzac's  "  Passion  in  the 
Desert,"  Irving's  "Rip  Van  Winkle,"  and 
Poe's  "  Gold  Bug  "  or  his  "  Black  Cat." 

As  an  aid  in  the  appreciation  of  the  short 
story  the  following  books  will  be  of  assist- 
53 


STORY    TELLING 

ance :  Brander  Matthews's  "  Philosophy  of 
the  Short  Story,"  Charles  S.  Baldwin's 
"  American  Short  Stories,"  and  Bliss  Perry's 
"  Study  of  Prose  Fiction." 

These  stories  are  great  because  they  are 
universal  in  character,  and  in  the  majority 
of  cases  are  marked  by  that  simplicity  which 
should  be  a  vital  part  of  the  rehearsal  of  any 
story  whether  written  or  verbal. 

Tolstoy's  "  Where  Love  Is,  There  God  Is 
Also  "  is  a  typical  story  for  analysis.  It  may 
prove  somewhat  long  to  tell  in  combination 
with  other  stories,  but  as  a  story  to  use  by 
itself  it  needs  little  modification  of  the  writ- 
ten form. 

The  introductory  paragraphs,  stating  the 
conditions  of  Martin's  life,  may  be  short- 
ened into  a  few  sentences  which  will  still  pic- 
ture the  lonely  old  man  and  the  visit  from  his 
friend.  In  a  similar  way  the  part  which 
tells  of  his  experience  in  reading  the  Bible 
may  be  shortened,  care  being  taken,  however, 
not  to  omit  the  fact  of  the  influence  of  the 
story  of  the  anointing  of  Jesus'  feet,  for  on 
that  the  rest  of  the  story  hangs.  The  por- 
tions bracketed  in  the  text  given  below  in- 
54 


STORY    TELLING 

dicate  the  parts  omitted  or  condensed  in  the 
story  as  I  have  told  it. 


WHERE  LOVE  IS,  THERE  GOD  IS  ALSO1 

BY  COUNT  LYOF  N.  TOLSTOY 

IN  a  certain  city  dwelt  Martin  Avdyeeich,  the  cob- 
bler. He  lived  in  a  cellar,  a  wretched  little  hole  with 
a  single  window.  The  window  looked  up  to- 
wards the  street,  and  through  it  Martin  could  just 
see  the  passers-by.  It  is  true  that  he  could  see  little 
more  than  their  boots,  but  [Martin  Avdyeeich  could 
read  a  man's  character  by  his  boots,  so  he  needed  no 
more.  Martin  Avdyeeich  had  lived  long  in  that  one 
place,  and  had  many  acquaintances.]  Few  indeed  were 
the  boots  in  that  neighborhood  which  had  not  passed 
through  his  hands  at  some  time  or  other.  [On  some 
he  would  fasten  new  soles,  to  others  he  would  give 
side-pieces,  others  again  he  would  stitch  all  round, 
and  even  give  them  new  uppers  if  need  be.  And  often 
he  saw  his  own  handiwork  through  the  window.  There 
was  always  lots  of  work  for  him,  for  Avdyeeich's 
hand  was  cunning  and  his  leather  good;  nor  did  he 
overcharge,  and  he  always  kept  his  word.  He  always 
engaged  to  do  a  job  by  a  fixed  time  if  he  could;  but 
if  he  could  not,  he  said  so  at  once,  and  deceived  no 
man.  So  every  one  knew  Avdyeeich,  and  he  had  no 
lack  of  work.  Avdyeeich  had  always  been  a  pretty 
good  man,  but  as  he  grew  old  he  began  to  think  more 
about  his  soul,  and  draw  nearer  to  his  God.]  While 
1  Reprinted,  by  permission,  from  The  Outlook,  New  York. 

55 


STORY    TELLING 

Martin  was  still  a  journeyman  his  wife  had  died; 
but  his  wife  had  left  him  a  little  boy  —  three  years 
old.  Their  other  children  had  not  lived.  [All  the 
eldest  had  died  early.  Martin  wished  at  first 
to  send  his  little  child  into  the  country  to  his 
sister,  but  afterwards  he  thought  better  of  it.  "  My 
Kapitoshka,"  thought  he,  "  will  feel  miserable  in  a 
strange  household.  He  shall  stay  here  with  me." 
And  so  Avdyeeich  left  his  master,  and  took  to  living 
in  lodgings  alone  with  his  little  son.  But  God  did 
not  give  Avdyeeich  happiness  in  his  children.]  No 
sooner  had  the  little  one  begun  to  grow  up  and  be  a 
help  and  a  joy  to  his  father's  heart,  than  a  sickness 
fell  upon  Kapitoshka,  the  little  one  took  to  his  bed, 
lay  there  in  a  raging  fever  for  a  week,  and  then  died. 
Martin  buried  his  son  in  despair  —  so  desperate  was 
he  that  he  began  to  murmur  against  God.  [Such  dis- 
gust of  life  overcame  him  that  he  more  than  once 
begged  God  that  he  might  die;  and  he  reproached 
God  for  taking  not  him,  an  old  man,  but  his  darling, 
his  only  son,  instead.  And  after  that  Avdyeeich  left 
off  going  to  church.] 

And,  lo!  one  day  there  came  to  Avdyeeich  [from 
the  Troitsa  Monastery]  an  aged  peasant-pilgrim  — 
[it  was  already  the  eighth  year  of  his  pilgrimage.] 
Avdyeeich  fell  a- talking  with  him,  and  began  to  com- 
plain of  his  great  sorrow.  "  As  for  living  any  longer, 
thou  man  of  God,"  said  he,  "  I  desire  it  not.  Would 
only  that  I  might  die!  [That  is  my  sole  prayer  to 
God.  I  am  now  a  man  who  has  no  hope."] 

And  the  old  man  said  to  him :  "  Thy  speech,  Martin, 
is  not  good.  How  shall  we  judge  the  doings  of  God? 
[God's  judgments  are  not  our  thoughts.  God  willed 
that  thy  son  shouldst  die,  but  that  thou  shouldst  live. 

56 


STORY    TELLING 

Therefore  'twas  the  best  thing  both  for  him  and  for 
thee.]  It  is  because  thou  wouldst  fain  have  lived  for 
thy  own  delight  that  thou  dost  now  despair." 

"  But  what  then  is  a  man  to  live  for  ? "  asked 
Avdyeeich. 

And  the  old  man  answered :  "  For  God,  Martin ! 
He  gave  thee  life,  and  for  Him  therefore  must  thou 
live.  When  thou  dost  begin  to  live  for  Him,  thou  wilt 
grieve  about  nothing  more,  and  all  things  will  come 
easy  to  thee." 

Martin  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  said: 
"  And  how  must  one  live  for  God  ? " 

"  [Christ  hath  shown  us  the  way.  Thou  knowest 
thy  letters.]  Buy  the  Gospels  and  read;  there  thou 
wilt  find  out  how  to  live  for  God.  There  everything 
is  explained." 

These  words  made  the  heart  of  Avdyeeich  burn 
within  him,  and  he  went  the  same  day  and  bought 
for  himself  a  New  Testament  printed  in  very  large 
type,  and  began  to  read. 

Avdyeeich  set  out  with  the  determination  to  read 
it  only  on  holidays;  but  as  he  read,  it  did  his  heart 
so  much  good  that  he  took  to  reading  it  every  day. 
[And  the  second  time  he  read  until  all  the  kerosene 
in  the  lamp  had  burnt  itself  out,  and  for  all  that  he 
could  not  tear  himself  away  from  the  book.  And  so 
it  was  every  evening.]  And  the  more  he  read,  the 
more  clearly  he  understood  what  God  wanted  of  him, 
and  how  it  behooved  him  to  live  for  God;  and  his 
heart  grew  lighter  and  lighter  continually.  [For- 
merly, whenever  he  lay  down  to  sleep  he  would  only 
sigh  and  groan,  and  think  of  nothing  but  Kapitoshka, 
but  now  he  would  only  say  to  himself :  "  Glory  to 
Thee!  Glory  to  Thee,  O  Lord!  Thy  will  be  done!  "] 

57 


STORY    TELLING 

Henceforth  the  whole  life  of  Avdyeeich  was  changed. 
Formerly,  whenever  he  had  a  holiday,  he  would  go  to 
the  tavern  to  drink  tea,  nor  would  he  say  no  to  a 
drop  of  brandy  now  and  again.  [He  would  tipple 
with  his  comrades,  and  though  not  actually  drunk, 
would,  for  all  that,  leave  the  inn  a  bit  merry,  bab- 
bling nonsense  and  talking  loudly  and  censoriously.] 
He  had  done  with  all  that  now.  His  life  became 
quiet  and  joyful.  With  the  morning  light  he  sat 
down  to  his  work,  worked  out  his  time,  then  took 
down  his  lamp  from  the  hook,  placed  it  on  the  table, 
took  down  his  book  from  the  shelf,  bent  over  it, 
and  sat  him  down  to  read.  And  the  more  he  read 
the  more  he  understood,  and  his  heart  grew  brighter 
and  happier. 

It  happened  once  that  Martin  was  up  reading  till 
very  late.  He  was  reading  St.  Luke's  Gospel.  [He 
was  reading  the  sixth  chapter,  and  as  he  read  he 
came  to  the  words :  "  And  to  him  that  smiteth  thee 
on  the  one  cheek,  offer  also  the  other."  This  passage 
he  read  several  times,  and  presently  he  canie  to  that 
place  where  the  Lord  says :  "  And  why  call  ye  me 
Lord,  Lord,  and  do  not  the  things  which  I  say? 
Whosoever  cometh  to  Me,  and  heareth  My  sayings, 
and  doeth  them,  I  will  show  you  to  whom  he  is  like. 
He  is  like  a  man  which  built  an  house,  and  dug 
deep,  and  laid  the  foundations  on  a  rock.  And  when 
the  flood  arose,  the  storm  beat  vehemently  upon  that 
house,  and  could  not  shake  it,  for  it  was  founded 
upon  a  rock.  But  he  that  heareth,  and  doeth  not,  is 
like  a  man  that  without  a  foundation  built  an  house 
upon  the  earth,  against  which  the  stream  did  beat 
vehemently,  and  immediately  it  fell,  and  the  ruin  of 
that  house  was  great." 

58 


STORY    TELLING 

Avdyeeich  read  these  words  through  and  through, 
and  his  heart  was  glad.  He  took  off  his  glasses, 
laid  them  on  the  book,  rested  his  elbow  on  the  table, 
and  fell  a-thinking.  And  he  began  to  measure  his 
own  life  by  these  words.  And  he  thought  to  himself, 
"  Is  my  «house  built  on  the  rock  or  on  the  sand  ?  How 
good  to  be  as  on  a  rock!  How  easy  it  all  seems  to 
thee  sitting  alone  here!  It  seems  as  if  thou  wert 
doing  God's  will  to  the  full,  and  so  thou  takest  no 
heed  and  fallest  away  again.  And  yet  thou  wouldst 
go  on  striving,  for  so  it  is  good  for  thee.  O  Lord, 
help  me!  "  Thus  thought  he,  and  would  have  laid 
him  down,  but  it  was  a  grief  to  tear  himself  away 
from  the  book.  And  so  he  began  reading  the  seventh 
chapter.  He  read  all  about  the  Centurion,  he  read  all 
about  the  Widow's  Son,  he  read  all  about  the  answer 
to  the  disciples  of  St.  John;  and  so  he  came  to  that 
place  where  the  rich  Pharisee  invites  our  Lord  to  be 
his  guest.]  And  he  read  all  about  how  the  woman 
who  was  a  sinner  anointed  His  feet  and  washed  them 
with  her  tears,  and  how  He  justified  her.  [And  so 
he  came  at  last  to  the  forty-fourth  verse,  and  there 
he  read  these  words,  "And  He  turned  to  the  woman 
and  said  to  Simon,  Seest  thou  this  woman  ?  I  entered 
into  thine  house,  thou  gavest  Me  no  water  for  My 
feet;  but  she  has  washed  My  feet  with  tears  and 
wiped  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head.  Thou  gav- 
est Me  no  kiss,  but  this  woman,  since  the  time  I 
came  in,  hath  not  ceased  to  kiss  My  feet.  Mine 
head  with  oil  thou  didst  not  anoint."]  And  again 
Avdyeeich  took  off  his  glasses,  and  laid  them  on 
the  book,  and  fell  a-thinking. 

"  So  it  is  quite  plain  that  I  too  have  something 
of  the  Pharisee  about  me.  Am  I  not  always  think- 

59 


STORY    TELLING 

ing  of  myself?  Am  I  not  always  thinking  of  drink- 
ing tea,  and  keeping  myself  as  warm  and  cozy  aa 
possible,  without  thinking  at  all  about  the  guest? 
Simon  thought  about  himself,  but  did  not  give 
the  slightest  thought  to  his  guest.  But  who  was 
his  guest?  The  Lord  Himself.  And  suppose  he 
were  to  come  to  me,  should  I  treat  Him  as  the  Phar- 
isee did?" 

And  Avdyeeich  leaned  both  his  elbows  on  the  table 
and,  without  perceiving  it,  fell  a-dozing. 

"  Martin !  "  —  it  was  as  though  the  voice  of  some 
one  close  to  his  ear. 

Martin  started  up  from  his  nap.     "  Who 's  there  ?  " 

He  turned  round,  he  gazed  at  the  door,  but  there 
was  no  one.  Again  he  dozed  off.  Suddenly  he  heard 
quite  plainly,  "Martin,  Martin,  I  say!  Look  to- 
morrow into  the  street.  I  am  coming." 

Martin  awoke,  rose  from  his  chair,  and  began  to 
rub  his  eyes.  And  he  did  not  know  himself  whether 
he  had  heard  these  words  asleep  or  awake.  He 
turned  down  the  lamp  and  laid  him  down  to  rest. 

At  dawn  next  day  Avdyeeich  arose,  prayed 
to  God,  [lit  his  stove,  got  ready  his  gruel  and  cab- 
bage soup,  filled  his  samovar,  put  on  his  apron,]  and 
sat  him  down  by  his  window  to  work.  There  Avdy- 
eeich sits  and  works,  and  thinks  of  nothing  but  the 
things  of  yesternight.  His  thoughts  were  divided. 
[He  thought  at  one  time  that  he  must  have  gone 
off  dozing,  and  then  again  he  thought  he  really 
must  have  heard  that  voice.  It  might  have  been  so, 
thought  he.] 

Martin  sits  at  the  window  and  looks  as  much  at 
his  window  as  at  his  work,  and  whenever  a  strange 
pair  of  boots  passes  by  he  bends  forward  and  looks 

60 


STORY    TELLING 

out  of  the  window,  so  as  to  see  the  face  as  well  as 
the  feet  of  the  passers-by.  [The  house  porter  passed 
by  in  new  felt  boots,  the  water-carrier  passed  by, 
and  after  that]  there  passed  close  to  the  window  an 
old  soldier,  one  of  Nicholas's  veterans,  in  tattered 
old  boots,  with  a  shovel  in  his  hands.  [Avdyeeich 
knew  him  by  his  boots.]  The  old  fellow  was  called 
Stepanuich,  and  lived  with  the  neighboring  shopkeeper, 
who  harbored  him  of  his  charity.  [His  duty  was  to 
help  the  porter.]  Stepanuich  stopped  before  Avdy- 
eeich's  window  to  sweep  away  the  snow.  [Avdyeeich 
cast  a  glance  at  him,  and  then  went  on  working  as 
before.] 

"  I  Jm  not  growing  sager  as  I  grow  older,"  thought 
Avdyeeich,  with  some  self-contempt.  "  I  make  up 
my  mind  that  Christ  is  coming  to  me,  and,  lo!  'tis 
only  Stepanuich  clearing  away  the  snow.  [Thou 
simpleton,  thou!  thou  art  wool-gathering!  "  Then 
Avdyeeich  made  ten  more  stitches,  and  then  he 
stretched  his  head  once  more  towards  the  window. 
He  looked  through  the  window  again,  and  there  he 
saw  that  Stepanuich  had  placed  the  shovel  against 
the  wall,  and  was  warming  himself  and  taking  breath 
a  bit.] 

"  The  old  man  is  very  much  broken,"  thought 
Avdyeeich  to  himself.  "  It  is  quite  plain  that  he 
has  scarcely  strength  enough  to  scrape  away  the 
snow.  Suppose  I  make  him  drink  a  little  tea!  the 
samovar,  too,  is  just  on  the  boil."  Avdyeeich  put 
down  his  awl,  got  up,  placed  the  samovar  on  the 
table,  put  some  tea  in  it,  and  tapped  on  the  window 
with  his  fingers.  [Stepanuich  turned  round  and 
came  to  the  window.]  Avdyeeich  beckoned  to  him, 
and  then  went  and  opened  the  door. 

61 


STORY   TELLING 

"  Come  in  and  warm  yourself  a  bit,"  cried  he. 
"You're  a  bit  chilled,  eh?" 

"Christ  requite  you!  Yes,  and  all  my  bones  ache 
too,"  said  Stepanuich.  Stepanuich  came  in,  shook 
off  the  snow,  [and  began  to  wipe  his  feet  so  as  not  to 
soil  the  floor,  but  he  tottered  sadly. 

"Don't  trouble  about  wiping  your  feet.  I'll  rub 
it  off  myself.  It's  all  in  the  day's  work.]  Come  in 
and  sit  down,"  said  Avdyeeich.  "  Here,  take  a  cup 
of  tea." 

And  Avdyeeich  filled  two  cups,  and  gave  one  to 
his  guest,  [and  he  poured  his  own  tea  out  into  the 
saucer  and  began  to  blow  it. 

Stepanuich  drank  his  cup,  turned  it  upside  down, 
put  a  gnawed  crust  on  the  top  of  it,  and  said, 
"  Thank  you."  But  it  was  quite  plain  that  he  wanted 
to  be  asked  to  have  some  more. 

"  Have  a  drop  more.  Do !  "  said  Avdyeeich,  and 
poured  out  fresh  cups  for  his  guest  and  himself,] 
and  as  Avdyeeich  drank  his  cup,  he  could  not  help 
glancing  at  the  window  from  time  to  time. 

"  Dost  thou  expect  any  one  ? "  asked  his  guest. 

"  Do  I.  expect  any  one  ?  Well,  honestly,  I  hardly 
know.  I  am  expecting  and  I  am  not  expecting,  and 
there's  a  word  which  has  burnt  itself  right  into  my 
heart.  Whether  it  was  a  vision  or  no,  I  know  not. 
Look  now,  my  brother !  I  was  reading  yesterday  about 
our  little  Father1  Christ,  how  He  suffered,  how  He 
came  on  earth.  [Hast  thou  heard  of  Him,  eh?" 

"  I  have  heard,  I  have  heard,"  replied  Stepanuich, 
"  but  we  poor  ignorant  ones  know  not  our  letters."] 

1  Rus.  Batushka.  No  translation  can  adequately  express  the 
meaning  of  this  caressing  diminutive.  The  German  Papachen  is 
the  nearest  approach  to  it.  All  the  Slavonic  languages  have  its 
equivalent. 


STORY    TELLING 

"Anyhow,  I  was  reading  about  this  very  thing  — 
how  He  came  down  upon  earth.  I  was  reading  how 
He  went  to  the  Pharisee,  and  how  the  Pharisee  did 
not  receive  Him  at  all.  [Thus  I  thought,  and  so, 
about  yesternight,  little  brother  mine,  I  read  that 
very  thing,  and  bethought  me  how  the  Honorable 
did  not  receive  our  little  Father  Christ  honorably.] 
But  suppose,  I  thought,  if  He  came  to  one  like  me  — 
would  I  receive  Him?  Simon  at  any  rate  did  not 
receive  Him  at  all.  Thus  I  thought,  and  so  think- 
ing, fell  asleep.  I  fell  asleep,  I  say,  little  brother 
mine,  and  I  heard  my  name  called.  I  started  up. 
A  voice  was  whispering  at  my  very  ear.  *  Look  out 
to-morrow !  '  it  said,  *  I  am  coming.'  And  so  it  befell 
twice.  Now  look!  wouldst  thou  believe  it?  the  idea 
stuck  to  me  —  I  scold  myself  for  my  folly,  and  yet 
I  look  for  Him,  our  little  Father  Christ!  " 

Stepanuich  shook  his  head  and  said  nothing,  but 
he  drank  his  cup  dry  and  put  it  aside.  [Then  Avdy- 
eeich  took  up  the  cup  and  filled  it  again. 

"  Drink  some  more.  'Twill  do  thee  good.  Now 
it  seems  to  me  that  when  our  little  Father  went 
about  on  earth,  He  despised  no  one,  but  sought  unto 
the  simple  folk  most  of  all.  He  was  always  among 
the  simple  folk.  Those  disciples  of  His  too,  he 
chos«  most  of  them  from  amongst  our  brother-labor, 
ers,  sinners  like  unto  us.  He  that  exalteth  himself, 
He  says,  shall  be  abased,  and  he  that  abaseth  him- 
self shall  be  exalted.  Ye,  says  He,  call  me  Lord,  and 
I,  says  He,  wash  your  feet.  He  who  would  be  the 
iirst  among  you,  He  says,  let  him  become  the  ser- 
vant of  all.  And  therefore  it  is  that  He  says, 
Blessed  are  the  lowly,  the  peacemakers,  the  humble, 
and  the  long-suffering." 

63 


STORY    TELLING 

Stepanuich  forgot  his  tea.  He  was  an  old  man, 
soft-hearted,  and  tearful.  He  sat  and  listened,  and 
the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

"Come,*  drink  a  little  moire,"  said  Avdyeeich. 
But  Stepanuich  crossed  himself,  expressed  his  thanks, 
pushed  away  his  cup,  and  got  up.l 

"I  thank  thee,  Martin  Avdyeeich,"  said  he.  "I 
have  fared  well  at  thy  hands,  and  thou  hast  re- 
freshed me  both  in  body  and  soul." 

"  Thou  wilt  show  me  a  kindness  by  coming  again. 
I  am  so  glad  to  have  a  guest,"  said  Avdyeeich. 
Stepanuich  departed,  and  Martin  [poured  out  the 
last  drop  of  tea,  drank  it,  washed  up,  and  again] 
sat  down  by  the  window  to  work  —  [he  had  some 
back-stitching  to  do.  He  stitched  and  stitched,  and 
now  and  then  cast  glances  at  the  window  —  he  was 
looking  for  Christ,  and  could  think  of  nothing  but 
Him  and  His  works.  And  the  divers  sayings  of 
Christ  were  in  his  head  all  the  time. 

Two  soldiers  passed  by,  one  in  regimental  boots, 
the  other  in  boots  of  his  own  making;  after  that, 
the  owner  of  the  next  house  passed  by  in  nicely 
brushed  goloshes.  A  baker  with  a  basket  also  passed 
by.  All  these  passed  by  in  turn,  andl  then  there 
came  alongside  the  window  a  woman  in  worsted 
stockings  and  rustic  shoes,  and  as  she  was  passing 
by  she  stopped  short  in  front  of  the  partition  wall. 
Avdyeeich  looked  up  at  her  from  his  window,  and 
he  saw  that  the  woman  was  a  stranger  and  poorly 
clad,  and  that  she  had  a  little  child  with  her.  She 
was  leaning  up  against  the  wall  with  her  back  to 
the  wind,  and  tried  to  wrap  the  child  up,  but  she 
had  nothing  to  wrap  it  up  with.  The  woman 
wore  summer  clothes,  and  thin  enough  they  were. 

64 


STORY    TELLING 

And  from  out  of  his  corner  Avdyeeich  heard  the 
child  crying  and  the  woman  trying  to  comfort  it, 
but  she  could  not.  Then  Avdyeeich  got  up,  went  out 
of  the  door  and  on  to  the  steps,  and  cried,  "  My  good 
woman!  my  good  woman!  " 

The  woman  heard  him  and  turned  round. 

"  Why  dost  thou  stand  out  in  the  cold  there  with 
the  child?  Come  inside!  In  the  warm  room  thou 
wilt  be  better  able  to  tend  him.  This  way!  " 

The  woman  was  amazed.  What  she  saw  was  an 
old  fellow  in  an  apron  and  with  glasses  on  his  nose 
calling  to  her.  She  came  towards  him. 

They  went  down  the  steps  together  —  they  went 
into  the  room.  The  old  man  led  the  woman  to  the 
bed.  "  There,"  said  he,  "  sit  down,  gossip,  nearer  to 
the  stove,  and  warm  and  feed  thy  little  one.  .  .  ." 

He  went  to  the  table,  got  some  bread  and  a  dish, 
[opened  the  oven  door,  put  some  cabbage  soup  into 
the  dish,  took  out  a  pot  of  gruel,  but  it  was  not 
quite  ready,  so  he  put  some  cabbage  soup  only  into 
the  dish,  and  placed  it  on  the  table.  Then  he  fetched 
bread,  took  down  the  cloth  from  the  hook,  and 
spread  it  on  the  table.] 

"  Sit  down  and  have  something  to  eat,  gossip," 
said  he,  "  and  I  will  sit  down  a  little  with  the 
youngster.  I  have  had  children  of  my  own,  and 
know  how  to  manage  them." 

The  woman  crossed  herself,  sat  down  at  the  table, 
and  began  to  eat,  and  Avdyeeich  sat  down  on  the  bed 
with  the  child.  [Avdyeeich  smacked  his  lips  at  him 
again  and  again,  but  his  lack  of  teeth  made  it  a 
clumsy  joke  at  best.  And  all  the  time  the  child  never 
left  off  shrieking.  Then  Avdyeeich  hit  upon  the  idea 
of  shaking  his  finger  at  him,  so  he  snapped  his  fingers 

65 


STORY   TELLING 

up  and  down,  backwards  and  forwards,  right  in  front 
of  the  child's  mouth.  He  did  not  put  his  finger  into 
its  mouth,  because  his  finger  was  black  and  sticky 
with  cobbler's  wax.  And  the  child  stared  at  the 
finger  and  was  silent,  and  presently  it  began  to 
laugh.  And  Avdyeeich  was  delighted.  But]  the 
woman  went  on  eating,  and  told  him  who  she  was 
and  whence  she  came. 

"  I  am  a  soldier's  wife,"  she  said :  "  my  eight 
months'  husband  they  drove  right  away  from  me, 
and  nothing  has  been  heard  of  him  since.  I  took  a 
cook's  place  till  I  became  a  mother.  They  could 
not  keep  me  and  the  child.  It  is  now  three  months 
since  I  have  been  drifting  about  without  any  fixed 
resting-place.  I  have  eaten  away  my  all.  [I  wanted 
to  be  a  wet-nurse,  but  people  would  n't  have  me : 
*  Thou  art  too  thin,'  they  said.  I  have  just  been  to 
the  merchant's  wife  where  our  grandmother  lives, 
and  there  they  promised  to  take  me  in.  I  thought 
it  was  all  right,  but  she  told  me  to  come  again 
in  a  week.  But  she  lives  a  long  way  off.]  I  am 
chilled  to  death,  and  he  is  quite  tired  out.  But, 
God  be  praised!  our  landlady  has  compassion  on  us, 
and  gives  us  shelter  for  Christ's  sake.  But  for  that 
I  don't  know  how  we  could  live  through  it  all." 

Avdyeeich  sighed,  and  said,  "  And  have  you  no 
warm  clothes  ?  " 

"Ah,  kind  friend!  this  is  indeed  warm-clothes 
time,  but  yesterday  I  pawned  away  my  last  shawl  for 
two  grivenki"  1 

The  woman  went  to  the  bed  and  took  up  the  child, 
but  Avdyeeich  stood  up,  went  to  the  wall  cupboard, 

,    *  A  grivenka  is  the  tenth  part  of  a  ruble  —  about  5  cents. 
66 


STORY    TELLING 

rummaged  about  a  bit,  and  then  brought  back  with 
him  an  old  jacket. 

"  Look !  "  said  he,  "  'tis  a  shabby  thing,  'tis  true, 
but  it  will  do  to  wrap  up  in." 

The  woman  looked  at  the  old  jacket,  then  she 
gazed  at  the  old  man,  and,  taking  the  jacket,  fell 
a-weeping.  [Avdyeeich  also  turned  away,  crept  under 
the  bed,  drew  out  a  trunk,  and  seemed  to  be  very 
busy  about  it,  whereupon  he  again  sat  down  opposite 
the  woman.] 

Then  the  woman  said :  "  Christ  requite  thee,  dear 
little  father!  It  is  plain  that  it  was  He  who  sent 
me  by  thy  window.  When  I  first  came  out  it  was 
warm,  and  now  it  has  turned  very  cold.  And  He 
it  was,  little  father,  who  made  thee  look  out  of  the 
window  and  have  compassion  on  wretched  me." 

Avdyeeich  smiled  slightly,  and  said :  "  Yes,  He 
must  have  done  it,  for  I  looked  not  out  of  the  window 
in  vain,  dear  gossip!  " 

[And  Avdyeeich  told  his  dream  to  the  soldier's  wife 
also,  and  how  he  had  heard  a  voice  promising  that 
the  Lord  should  come  to  him  that  day. 

"  All  things  are  possible,"  said  the  woman.  Then 
she  rose  up,  put  on  the  jacket,  wrapped  it  round  her 
little  one,  and  then  began  to  curtsy  and  thank 
Avdyeeich  once  more. 

"Take  this  for  Christ's  sake,"  said  Avdyeeich, 
giving  her  a  two-grivenka  piece,  "  and  redeem  your 
ghawl."  The  woman  crossed  herself,  Avdyeeich 
crossed  himself,  and  then  he  led  the  woman  to  the 
door.] 

The  woman  went  away.  Avdyeeich  ate  up  the 
remainder  of  the  cabbage  soup,  washed  up,  and  again 
sat  down  to  work.  He  worked  on  and  on,  but  he  did 

67 


STORY    TELLING 

not  forget  the  window,  and  whenever  the  window 
was  darkened  he  immediately  looked  up  to  see  who 
was  passing.  [Acquaintances  passed,  strangers 
passed,  but  there  was  no  one  in  particular.] 

But  now  Avdyeeich  sees  how,  right  in  front  of  his 
window,  an  old  woman,  a  huckster,  has  taken  her 
stand.  She  carries  a  basket  of  apples.  Not  many 
now  remained;  she  had  evidently  sold  them  nearly* 
all.  Across  her  shoulder  she  carried  a  sack  full  of 
shavings.  She  must  have  picked  them  up  near  some 
new  building,  and  was  taking  them  home  with  her. 
It  was  plain  that  the  sack  was  straining  her  shoulder. 
She  wanted  to  shift  it  on  to  the  other  shoulder,  so  she 
rested  the  sack  on  the  pavement,  placed  the  apple- 
basket  on  a  small  post,  and  set  about  shaking  down 
the  shavings  in  the  sack.  Now  while  she  was  shak- 
ing down  the  sack,  an  urchin  in  a  ragged  cap  sud- 
denly turned  up,  goodness  knows  from  whence,  grabbed 
at  one  of  the  apples  in  the  basket,  and  would 
have  made  off  with  it,  but  the  wary  old  woman 
turned  quickly  round  and  gripped  the  youth  by  the 
sleeve.  The  lad  fought  and  tried  to  tear  himself 
loose,  but  the  old  woman  seized  him  with  both 
hands,  knocked  his  hat  off,  and  tugged  hard  at  his 
hair.  The  lad  howled,  and  the  woman  reviled  him. 
Avdyeeich  did  not  stop  to  put  away  his  awl,  but 
pitched  it  on  the  floor,  rushed  into  the  courtyard, 
and  in  his  haste  stumbled  on  the  steps  and  dropped 
his  glasses.  Avdyeeich  ran  out  into  the  street.  The 
old  woman  was  tugging  at  the  lad's  hair  and  wanted 
to  drag  him  off  to  the  police,  while  the  boy  fought 
and  kicked. 

"I  didn't  take  it,"  said  he.  "What  are  you 
whacking  me  for?  Let  me  go!  " 

68 


STORY    TELLING 

Avdyeeich  came  up  and  tried  to  part  them.  He 
seized  the  lad  by  the  arm  and  said:  "Let  him  go, 
little  mother!  Forgive  him  for  Christ's  sake!  " 

"  I  '11  forgive  him  so  that  he  sha'n't  forget  the 
taste  of  fresh  birch-rods.  I  mean  to  take  the  rascal 
to  the  police  station." 

Avdyeeich  began  to  entreat  with  the  old  woman. 

"  Let  him  go,  little  mother ;  he  will  not  do  so 
any  more.  Let  him  go  for  Christ's  sake." 

The  old  woman  let  him  go.  The  lad  would  have 
bolted,  but  Avdyeeich  held  him  fast. 

"  Beg  the  little  mother's  pardon,"  said  he,  "  and 
don't  do  such  things  any  more.  I  saw  thee  take 
them." 

Then  the  lad  began  to  cry  and  beg  pardon. 

"  Well,  that 's  all  right !  And  now,  there 's  an 
apple  for  thee."  And  Avdyeeich  took  one  out  of  the 
basket  and  gave  it  to  the  boy.  "  I  '11  pay  thee  for  it, 
little  mother,"  he  said  to  the  old  woman. 

"  Thou  wilt  ruin  them  that  way,  the  blackguards," 
said  the  old  woman.  "If  I  had  the  rewarding  of 
him,  he  should  not  be  able  to  sit  down  for  a  week." 

"  Oh,  little  mother,  little  mother !  "  cried  Av- 
dyeeich, "  that  is  our  way  of  looking  at  things,  but 
it  is  not  God's  way.  If  we  ought  to  be  whipped  so 
for  the  sake  of  one  apple,  what  do  we  deserve  for 
our  sins  ?  " 

The  old  woman  was  silent. 

[And  Avdyeeich  told  the  old  woman  about  the 
parable  of  the  master  who  forgave  his  servant  a 
very  great  debt,  and  how  that  servant  immediately 
went  out  and  caught  his  fellow-servant  by  the  throat 
because  he  was  his  debtor.  The  old  woman  listened 
to  the  end,  and  the  lad  listened  too.] 


STORY    TELLING 

"  God  bade  us  forgive,"  said  Avdyeeich,  "  other- 
wise He  will  not  forgive  us.  We  must  forgive  every 
one,  especially  the  thoughtless." 

The  old  woman  shook  her  head  and  sighed. 

["  That 's  all  very  well,"  she  said,  "  but  they  are 
spoiled  enough  already." 

"  Then  it  is  for  us  old  people  to  teach  them  better," 
said  Avdyeeich. 

"  So  say  I,"  replied  the  old  woman.  "  I  had  seven 
of  them  at  one  time,  and  now  I  have  but  a  single 
daughter  left."  And  the  old  woman  began  telling 
him  where  and  how  she  lived  with  her  daughter, 
and  how  many  grandchildren  she  had.  "  I  Jm  not 
what  I  was,"  she  said,  "  but  I  work  all  I  can.  I 
am  sorry  for  my  grandchildren,  and  good  children 
they  are,  too.  No  one  is  so  glad  to  see  me  as  they 
are.  Little  Aksyutka  will  go  to  none  but  me. 
'  Grandma  dear !  darling  grandma !  ' "  and  the  old 
woman  was  melted  to  tears.  "As  for  him,"  she 
added,  pointing  to  the  lad,  "  boys  will  be  boys,  I 
suppose.  Well,  God  be  with  him!  "] 

Now  just  as  the  old  woman  was  about  to  hoist 
the  sack  on  to  her  shoulder,  the  lad  rushed  forward 
and  said: 

"  Give  it  here,  and  I  '11  carry  it  for  thee,  granny ! 
It  is  all  in  my  way." 

The  old  woman  shook  her  head,  but  she  did  put 
the  sack  on  the  lad's  shoulder. 

And  so  they  trudged  down  the  street  together 
side  by  side.  [And  the  old  woman  forgot  to  ask 
Avdyeeich  for  the  money  for  the  apple.  Avdyeeich 
kept  standing  and  looking  after  them,  and  heard 
how  they  talked  to  each  other,  as  they  went,  about 
all  sorts  of  things.] 

70 


STORY    TELLING 

Avdyeeich  followed  them  with  his  eyes  till  they 
were  out  of  sight,  then  he  turned  homewards  [and 
found  his  glasses  on  the  steps  (they  were  not  bro- 
ken), picked  up  his  awl,]  and  sat  down  to  work 
again.  He  worked  away  for  a  little  while,  but  soon 
he  was  scarcely  able  to  distinguish  the  stitches, 
[and  he  saw  the  lamplighter  going  round  to  light 
the  lamps.]  "  I  see  it  is  time  to  light  up,"  thought 
he,  [so  he  trimmed  his  little  lamp,  lighted  it,  and 
again  sat  down  to  work.  He  finished  one  boot  com- 
pletely, turned  it  round  and  inspected  it.  "  Good !  " 
he  cried.]  He  put  away  his  tools,  swept  up  the  cut- 
tings, removed  the  brushes  and  tips,  put  away  the 
awl,  took  down  the  lamp,  placed  it  on  the  table,  and 
took  down  the  Gospels  from  the  shelf.  He  wanted 
to  find  the  passage  where  he  had  last  evening  placed 
a  strip  of  morocco  leather  by  way  of  a  marker,  but 
he  lit  upon  another  place.  And  just  as  Avdy- 
eeich opened  the  Gospel,  he  recollected  his  dream  of 
yesterday  evening.  And  no  sooner  did  he  call  it  to 
mind  than  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  some  persons  were 
moving  about  and  shuffling  with  their  feet  behind  him. 
Avdyeeich  glanced  round  and  saw  that  somebody  was 
indeed  standing  in  the  dark  corner  —  yes,  someone 
was  really  there,  but  who,  he  could  not  exactly  make 
out.  Then  a  voice  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"  Martin !    Martin !    dost  thou  not  know  me  ?  " 

"Who  art  thou?"  cried  Avdyeeich. 

"'Tis  I,"  cried  the  voice,  "lo,  'tis  I!  »  And  forth 
from  the  dark  corner  stepped  Stepanuich.  He  smiled, 
and  it  was  as  though  a  little  cloud  were  breaking, 
and  he  was  gone. 

"  It  is  I !  "  cried  the  voice,  and  forth  from  the 
corner  stepped  a  woman  with  a  little  child;  and  the 

71 


STORY    TELLING 

woman  smiled  and  the  child  laughed,  and  they  also 
disappeared. 

"  And  it  is  I !  "  cried  the  voice,  and  the  old  woman 
and  the  lad  with  the  apple  stepped  forth,  and  both 
of  them  smiled,  and  they  also  disappeared. 

And  the  heart  of  Avdyeeich  was  glad.  He  crossed 
himself,  put  on  his  glasses,  and  began  to  read  the 
Gospels  at  the  place  where  he  had  opened  them. 
And  at  the  top  of  the  page  he  read  these  words: 
"And  I  was  an  hungered  and  thirsty,  and  ye  gave 
Me  to  drink.  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  Me  in." 

And  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  he  read  this :  "  In- 
asmuch as  ye  have  done  it  to  the  least  of  these  My 
brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  Me." 

And  Avdyeeich  understood  that  his  dream  had  not 
deceived  him,  and  that  the  Saviour  had  really  come 
to  him  that  day,  and  he  had  really  received  Him. 

One  difference  between  the  text  of  the  story 
for  reading  and  one  for  telling  lies  in  'the 
more  colloquial  style  of  the  latter.  A  text 
for  reading  requires  a  certain  dignity  and 
precision  of  style  which  is  not  necessary  in 
the  story  which  is  to  be  told,  —  not  that  the 
story  teller  should  lower  his  standard  of 
English,  or  allow  himself  a  loose  or  shift- 
less style,  but  because  the  more  intimate  re- 
lations between  the  story  teller  and  his 
audience  admit  of  a  freedom  which  would 
not  be  permissible  in  written  form. 
72 


STORY    TELLING 

A  long  introduction  to  a  story  may  be  con- 
densed for  telling  into  a  few  sentences  which 
will  preserve  the  atmosphere  and  setting  of 
the  story,  at  the  same  time  hastening  the  in- 
cidents for  which  the  listener  waits.  The 
story  teller  must  keep  in  mind  that  his  audi- 
ence is  preeminently  interested  in  the  devel- 
opment of  the  plot  of  the  story  rather  than 
in  descriptions  or  explanatory  incidents. 
These  he  may  use,  but  only  as  something 
which  shall  make  the  action  of  the  story  more 
vital  and  interesting.  Another  difference 
between  the  text  of  the  story  for  reading  and 
for  telling  must  be  made  by  eliminating  any 
secondary  stories  of  the  written  version,  and 
keeping  to  the  line  of  the  main  plot;  what- 
ever does  not  bear  directly  on  it  may  be 
considered  irrelevant. 

Story  telling  is  in  no  sense  reading,  either 
with  or  without  a  book;  and  while  care 
should  be  taken  to  select  the  very  best  pos- 
sible version  of  the  story  for  reproduction, 
it  is  not  necessary  to  attempt  a  verbatim 
recitation  of  the  same. 

•It  is  impossible  for  one  who  has  not  spent 
much  time  in  study  to  understand  the  sig- 
73 


STORY    TELLING 

nificance  and  production  of  tone  and  gesture 
and  all  the  carefully  concealed  machinery 
which  lies  back  of  any  art.  But  there  is  one 
thing  which  any  one  must  be  willing  to  do 
before  he  attempts  to  tell  stories  in  even  the 
most  unassuming  way;  namely,  to  so  live 
with  the  literature  which  he  is  to  interpret 
that  he  becomes  filled  with  the  spirit  and  at- 
mosphere of  the  tale  and  it  becomes  in  a  sense 
his  own.  Too  much  emphasis  cannot  be  laid 
upon  the  necessity  of  this  one  thing.  I  have 
known  artists  who  live  with  the  stories  they 
are  to  tell  a  year,  sometimes  two  years,  be- 
fore they  feel  that  they  are  ready  to  give 
them  to  an  audience. 

The  experience  of  great  artists  in  the 
dramatic  world  is  identical  in  this  regard. 
No  matter  how  marvellous  their  memories, 
they  are  not  guilty  of  running  over  the  lines 
of  a  play  as  they  go  to  the  theatre,  and  re- 
producing it  in  the  next  breath.  Long  as- 
sociation with  the  character  whom  they  are 
to  impersonate  is  one  of  the  essentials  to  an 
understanding  of  that  character.  The  more 
one  can  know  of  the  historical  surroundings, 
the  geographical  setting,  the  manners  and 
74 


STORY    TELLING 

customs  of  the  people  that  form  the  back- 
ground of  a  story  no  matter  how  little  they 
seem  to  come  into  the  story  itself,  the  more 
the  story  will  mean  to  him  and  the  more  he 
can  make  it  mean  to  others,  because  it  be- 
comes nearer  like  an  experience  of  his  own. 

As  to  the  performance,  to  use  the  technical 
term,  it  should  be  remembered  that  story 
tellers  are  temperamentally  as  unlike  as  sing- 
ers, and  their  manner  of  telling  a  story  will 
vary  from  a  dramatic  one  to  one  of  the  ut- 
most simplicity;  but  the  more  they  know  of 
the  history  and  customs  of  the  first  story 
tellers,  troubadours,  skalds,  or  minnesingers, 
the  more  they  keep  their  art  before  them  as 
an  ideal,  the  more  truly  will  they  merit  the 
name  and  earn  the  laurels  of  real  story  tellers. 
Imitation  tends  to  make  spontaneity  impos- 
sible; but  absolute  freedom  to  tell  the  story 
which  has  made  a  personal  appeal  to  the 
story  teller,  which  he  himself  enjoys  no  mat- 
ter how  others  regard  it,  such  an  atmosphere 
is  the  only  one  which  can  insure  success.  An 
unpleasant  association  with  a  story  during 
childhood,  or  a  present  lack  of  interest  in  it, 
will  rob  the  story  teller  of  the  element  of 
75 


STORY    TELLING 

personal  enjoyment  in  it  which  is  vital  to  a 
successful  rendering,  and  no  matter  how 
charming  others  may  find  it,  it  is  not  his 
story  to  tell. 

The  important  thing,  of  course,  to  con- 
sider first  is  the  adaptability  of  the  story  to 
the  age  which  one  expects  to  interest.  If  it 
seems  suited  to  this  particular  point  of  view 
and  experience,  a  careful  reading,  perhaps 
more  than  one,  will  be  necessary  before  it 
becomes  evident  where  to  condense,  what  the 
simple  development  of  the  plot  is,  and  what 
the  real  climax  of  the  story.  This  is  neces- 
sary for  a  single  story,  or  for  a  cycle  of 
stories  which,  each  a  complete  incident  in  it- 
self, yet  form  links  in  a  chain  of  some  one 
inclusive  experience. 

The  Jungle  Books  will  serve  as  an  excel- 
lent illustration  of  material  which  needs  edit- 
ing for  the  use  of  the  story  teller.  They  are 
fascinating  stories  for  children  of  fourth 
and  fifth  grades  when  they  once  catch  the 
idea  of  the  books,  but  they  seem  difficult  and 
baffling  to  many  children  who  have  not  been 
fortunate  in  their  introduction  to  them. 

The  story  teller  selects  from  the  two  vol- 
76 


STORY    TELLING 

umes  of  stories  those  relating  to  Mowgli, 
and  arranges  them  as  nearly  as  possible  in 
chronological  order,  thus  makes  a  series  of 
unfailing  charm. 

JUNGLE    STORIES 

Story  1.    "  MOWGLI'S  BROTHERS  " 

Early  life.     Jungle  Book. 
Story  2.    "  KAA'S  HUNTING  " 

Life  in  the  jungle.     Jungle  Book. 
(Begin  second  or  third  sentence) 
Story  3.     "How  FEAR  CAME" 

Life    in    the    jungle.      Second    Jungle 

Book. 
Story  4.     "RED  FIRE."     Jungle   Book. 

Page  27  —  Begin :    "  It  was  a  very  warm 
day  (when  Mowgli  was  ten  or  twelve) 
that  a  new  "  —  etc. 
Story  5.     "TIGER!     TIGER!"  Jungle  Book. 

(Begin  second  sentence) 
Story  6.     "  LETTING  IN  THE  JUNGLE."    Second  Jungle 

Book. 

Story  7.     "RED  DOG."     Second  Jungle  Book. 
Story  8.     "  SPRING  RUNNING."    Second  Jungle  Book. 

If  the  eight  stories  make  too  long  a  cycle, 
"  Kaa's  Hunting,"  and  "  How  Fear  Came," 
may  be  omitted;  or,  the  story  telling  may 
be  used  merely  to  introduce  the  book  and 
leave  the  children  to  read  it  themselves. 
77 


STORY   TELLING 

Other  stories  in  these  collections  are  in- 
teresting as  giving  pictures  of  jungle  life, 
but  any  child  once  having  become  acquainted 
with  Mowgli  will  be  eager  to  hear  what  hap- 
pened to  him  and  what  his  adventures  were; 
everything  else  is  for  the  time  being  of  no 
moment  at  all;  more  than  that,  to  the  real 
child  nothing  but  a  present  interest  has  any 
existence. 

Having  discussed  the  question  of  the  value 
of  reading  aloud  to  children,  it  will  be  scarcely 
necessary  to  say,  there  are  many  pieces  of 
literature  that  will  lose  so  much  in  charm 
and  effectiveness  from  a  failure  to  reproduce 
their  exact  form,  that  it  is  far  better  to  read 
than  to  tell  them.  Kipling's  "  Just-so 
Stories "  are  typical  examples  of  stories 
which  should  be  read  or  recited  rather  than 
told. 


78 


CHAPTER  IV 

ARRANGING   THE    PROGRAM   OF   MISCELLANEOUS 
STORIES 

Comparison  between  the  construction  of  a  musical  pro- 
gram and  one  of  stories;  illustrative  programs;  stories 
for  a  Japanese  program;  stories  for  a  Spring  program. 

TT  is  probable  that  the  teacher  and  the 
•••  fireside  story  teller  will  find  one  story,  or 
at  the  most  two,  sufficient  for  the  requirements 
of  their  story-hours;  but  the  library  story- 
hour  will  often  necessitate  the  arrangement 
of  a  number  of  miscellaneous  stories  so  that 
they  can  be  given  one  after  the  other  during 
a  specified  time. 

Some  of  the  larger  libraries  have  under- 
taken a  series  of  story-hours  at  each  of  which 
a  single  story  is  told,  the  stories  all  having 
the  same  hero,  and  taken  together  forming  a 
cycle;  but  by  far  the  greater  number  have 
used  what  may  be  termed  the  miscellaneous 
program. 

79 


STORY   TELLING 

This  kind  of  program  seems  best  adapted 
for  children  who  have  not  learned  to  be  good 
listeners,  and  for  younger  children,  as  they 
lack  the  fully  developed  power  of  concentra- 
tion which  is  needed  if  they  are  to  listen  for  a 
long  period  at  one  time,  without  the  relief 
which  comes  from  a  break  in  the  stories  and 
a  change  of  subject. 

It  is  claimed  that  the  spirit  of  the  artist 
is  revealed  in  his  ability  to  "  build  pro- 
grams," and  if  this  is  true  I  am  afraid  that 
many  story-hours  have  little  claim  to  rank 
above  vaudeville  performances,  for  they 
merely  shift  from  one  "  attraction"  to  an- 
other, without  sequence  or  relation  of  any 
kind.  There  is,  of  course,  some  gain  to  the 
child  from  the  stories  themselves,  provided 
the  selection  has  been  a  good  one,  but  the 
effect  of  one  story  is  often  much  lessened 
because  of  the  character  of  the  one  which 
preceded  or  which  followed  it. 

The  construction  of  a  program  for  an 
entertainment  or  for  an  isolated  story-hour 
is  a  difficult  problem ;  the  task  becomes  much 
less  difficult  if  the  audience  is  one  which  as- 
sembles regularly  and  is  familiar  with  the 
80 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

stories  which  have  been  told  already,  for 
their  interest  has  in  a  measure  already  been 
secured,  and  their  attitude  toward  the  story- 
hour  is  an  established  thing. 

In  the  regular  story-hour,  even  where  it  is 
devoted  to  a  variety  of  stories,  much  more  can 
be  accomplished  when  some  central  thought 
forms  the  unobtrusive  background  of  the 
tales.  Such  a  background  is  supplied  when 
the  effort  is  made  to  have  the  stories  related 
to  some  special  season  or  holiday,  that  un- 
derlying thought  furnishing  the  reason  for 
the  selection,  though,  to  change  the  figure, 
the  thread  which  binds  the  units  in  one  artis- 
tic whole  may  have  a  certain  elasticity. 
Take  for  example,  a  program  for  Spring, 
the  main  portion  of  which  will  naturally  be 
made  of  legends  and  stories  about  the  season 
itself,  or  its  birds  or  flowers.  Into  such  a 
program  it  would  be  quite  permissible  to 
introduce  a  Robin  Hood  story,  if  it  were 
one  of  those  picturing  the  outdoor  life  of  the 
famous  outlaw,  because  the  freedom,  the  for- 
est, the  singing  birds  and  even  the  spirit  of 
adventure,  have  in  them  the  very  essence 
of  the  springtime,  and  the  introduction  of 
81 


STORY    TELLING 

the  human  interest  is  always  an  acceptable 
contrast  to  fairies,  dryads,  and  creatures  of 
pure  imagination. 

With  stories  as  with  music,  the  grouping 
may  be  made  about  the  compositions  of  a 
single  man,  like  an  Andersen  or  a  Grimm 
program;  or  it  may  be  illustrative  of  a 
certain  kind  of  stories,  for  example,  those 
which  portray  the  hero  idea  or  ghost  story 
type;  stories  characteristic  of  a  country, 
such  as  Irish  fairy  tales  or  Uncle  Remus 
stories ;  or  one  may  use  a  definite  theme 
and  build  a  program  about  that,  making  the 
secondary  stories  contribute  to  the  strength 
and  significance  of  the  central  thought. 

The  Story  Tellers'  League  of  Adrian, 
Michigan,  has  made  a  year's  program  on  this 
last  basis,  the  central  theme  being  "  England 
in  Story."  Each  program  illustrates  some 
phase  of  the  subject,  as  for  example,  "  Glee- 
men  and  minstrels,"  "  Famous  ballads  and 
ballad  stories  " ;  "  Chaucer's  England  and 
stories  from  Chaucer." 

When  a  child  has  heard  a  thoughtfully 
conceived  program,  he  has  gained  not  only 
what  the  individual  stories  have  meant  to 
82 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

him,  but  the  value  of  each  story  has  been 
increased  by  its  relation  to  the  whole  and  to 
each  part. 

One  has  only  to  recall  some  of  the  story- 
hours  he  has  attended  to  remember  the  im- 
pression they  made  of  being  a  mere  jumble, 
in  which  there  seemed  to  be  neither  beginning 
nor  end,  and  certainly  no  underlying  pur- 
pose. 

Nothing  has  been  so  suggestive  in  my 
own  program-making  as  a  study  of  musi- 
cal programs,  particularly  those  of  great 
orchestras.  They  attempt  through  a  differ- 
ent medium  to  reach  people  through  intellect 
and  emotions  as  those  who  use  the  medium 
of  speech  should  do,  and  the  programs  of 
great  conductors  who  are  masters  of 
program-making  show  that  they  understand 
the  psychology  of  this  art. 

The  first  thing  necessary  in  approaching 
an  audience  is  to  get  control  of  it,  to 
make  it  listen  to  what  you  have  to  say. 
This  cannot  be  accomplished  with  a  lullaby, 
or  a  delicate  bit  of  folklore,  a  very  gem  of 
art  though  it  may  be:  the  very  quality 
of  softness  and  delicacy  requires  a  set- 
83 


STORY    TELLING 

ting  of  perfect  sympathy  for  its  production, 
and  nothing  has  been  done  to  create  that 
sympathy. 

The  orchestra  is  demanding  attention,  the 
clear  notes  of  the  overture  catch  the  ear,  and 
the  audience  listens.  A  song  like  "  Hark ! 
Hark !  the  Lark  "  has  this  same  quality  in  it, 
and  so  is  fitted  to  gain  the  attention  of  those 
who  wait  to  hear.  An  analysis  of  stories 
with  this  in  mind  will  discover  those  which 
sound  the  trumpet  tone  and  so  have  the  power 
to  win  attention. 

When  the  music,  or  the  story,  has  won  the 
interest  of  the  hearers,  then  is  the  opportun- 
ity to  say  the  larger,  more  serious  and 
thoughtful  thing,  often  the  thing  full  of  in- 
spiration and  uplift.  Here  is  the  symphony, 
speaking  to  the  clear,  awakened  thought  of 
the  listener,  stirring  his  emotions  and  ideals, 
but  appealing  to  his  intellect  as  well.  This 
is  the  body  of  the  program,  which  in  story 
telling  may  sometimes  be  composed  of  more 
than  one  story ;  but  whether  one  or  more,  its 
function  should  be  similar  to  that  of  the  sym- 
phony, having  the  effect  produced,  for  ex- 
ample, by  a  great  hero  story. 
84 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

What  should  have  been  gained  when  the 
program  has  advanced  thus  far,  is  not  only 
interest,  but  the  attitude  of  understanding 
and  appreciation,  a  willingness  to  see  things 
through  the  eyes  of  the  story  teller.  Now  is 
the  opportunity  for  the  greatest  thing  to  be 
revealed  which  the  program  has  to  say.  This 
is  the  climax  not  only  of  artistic  skill,  but  of 
thought;  the  end  toward  which  all  the  rest 
has  led. 

This  does  not  mean  that  there  may  be  only 
three  numbers  on  the  program,  but  rather 
that  there  are  three  movements,  requiring 
more  or  less  material  to  express  themselves. 

For  example,  the  opening  story  may  be 
emphasized  and  its  note  made  more  dominant 
by  an  additional  story  or  two  of  a  type  to 
sustain  the  spirit  of  the  introduction.  Again, 
after  the  body  of  the  program,  the  hero  story 
or  its  equivalent,  it  is  often  desirable  to  in- 
troduce a  story  of  a  lighter  vein,  perhaps  a 
humorous  story  which  shall  make  the  climax 
stronger  by  the  element  of  contrast. 

There  ought  to  be  variety  of  emotion,  a 
proper  balance  of  parts,  so  that  the  effect 
will  not  to  be  too  sombre  or  too  high-keyed, 
85 


STORY    TELLING 

and  the  form  of  the  stories  should  also  be 
considered,  so  that  the  audience  may  not  be 
surfeited  with  any  one  type.  The  legend  is 
one  of  the  most  charming  forms  of  literature 
for  telling,  but  if  one  tells  nothing  but  legends 
they  lose  their  charm  and  fascination.  There 
should  always  be  a  play  of  light  and  shadow, 
just  a  little  touch  of  pathos,  and  the  sug- 
gestion or  clear  note  of  humor,  but,  partic- 
ularly with  children,  the  emotions  should 
never  be  roused  simply  for  gratifying  the 
sense  of  power  of  the  story  teller,  nor  to 
produce  effects  by  over-stimulation  of  their 
sensitiveness. 

It  is  far  better  to  leave  children  eager  for 
more  stories  than  tired  and  restless  because 
they  have  too  many.  For  this  reason  a  short 
program  full  of  suggestiveness  and  incentive 
for  future  reading  is  ideal. 

The  following  stories  have  been  selected 
and  arranged  for  two  programs,  one  giving 
a  group  of  Japanese  stories,  the  other  with 
the  central  idea  that  of  Spring.  The  opening 
stories  of  both  programs  have  the  quality  of 
catching  the  attention  of  the  listeners,  as  al- 
ready suggested,  and  there  is  a  development 
86 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

in  the  programs  which  leaves  the  more  serious 
impression  for  the  climax. 

It  is  often  a  wise  thing  to  make  a  short  in- 
troduction before  giving  any  of  the  stories, 
just  a  few  sentences  which  shall  give  the 
proper  atmosphere  for  the  full  enjoyment 
of  them.  Perhaps  a  few  words  about  Japan 
and  the  charm  of  its  picturesque  customs 
and  people  would  give  the  children  the  set- 
ting desired,  or  the  stories  themselves  may 
advantageously  be  introduced  if  there  is 
something  of  particular  interest  about  them. 

The  story  teller  often  takes  for  granted  that 
the  audience  is  as  familiar  with  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  the  origin  and  history 
of  the  stories  as  he  is  after  years  of  study, 
when  such  is  not  the  case.  It  is  interesting  to 
know,  for  instance,  of  the  custom  among  the 
Japanese  of  telling  certain  stories  regarding 
the  flowers  which  they  honor  with  festivals; 
or  it  may  be  a  new  idea  to  the  children  that 
the  story  of  the  "  Stone-cutter  "  is  only  one 
of  the  versions  of  the  story  told  almost  every- 
where in  the  Orient. 

One  must  be  careful  not  to  take  on  the  tone 
of  instruction,  and  not  to  break  into  the  at- 
87 


STORY    TELLING 

mosphere  of  the  program  by  the  introduction 
of  anything  of  a  prosaic  character.  It  is  a 
mark  of  artistic  achievement  to  be  able  to 
sustain  the  interest  in  the  entire  program, 
wihout  letting  it  drop  or  permitting  it  to  lose 
its  distinctive  characteristic. 

A  PROGRAM  OF  JAPANESE 
STORIES 1 

THE  TONGUE-CUT  SPARROW 

THE  WHITE  HARE  AND  THE  CROCODILES 

THE  BOASTFUL  BAMBOO 

PRINCESS  MOONBEAM 

THE  MIRROR  OF  MATS  UY  AM  A 

THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  BROUGHT  WITHERED  TREES 

TO  LIFE 
THE  STONE-CUTTEB 

THE    TONGUE-CUT    SPARROW2 

FROM  WILLISTON'S  "  JAPANESE  FAIRY  TALES  " 

IN  a  little  old  house  in  a  little  old  village  in  Japan 
lived  a  little  old  man  and  his  little  old  wife. 

One  morning  when  the  old  woman  slid  open  the 
screens  which  form  the  sides  of  the  Japanese  houses, 
she  saw  on  the  doorstep  a  poor  little  sparrow.  She 

1  Some  of  these  stories  will  need  abridging  for  telling. 

2  Copyright,  RAND,  MCNALLY  &  Co.    Used  by  permission. 

88 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

took  him  up  gently  and  fed  him.  Then  she  held 
him  in  the  bright  morning  sunshine  until  the  cold 
dew  was  dried  from  his  wings.  Afterward  she  let 
him  go,  so  that  he  might  fly  home  to  his  nest,  but  he 
stayed  to  thank  her  with  his  songs. 

Each  morning,  when  the  pink  on  the  mountain  tops 
told  that  the  sun  was  near,  the  sparrow  perched  on 
the  roof  of  the  house  and  sang  out  his  joy. 

The  old  man  and  woman  thanked  the  sparrow  for 
this,  for  they  liked  to  be  up  early  and  at  work.  But 
near  them  there  lived  a  cross  old  woman  who  did  not 
like  to  be  awakened  so  early.  At  last  she  became  so 
angry  that  she  caught  the  sparrow  and  cut  his 
tongue.  Then  the  poor  little  sparrow  flew  away  to 
his  home.  But  he  could  never  sing  again. 

When  the  kind  woman  knew  what  had  happened 
to  her  pet  she  was  very  sad.  She  said  to  her  hus- 
band, "  Let  us  go  and  find  our  poor  little  spar- 
row." So  they  started  together,  and  asked  of  each 
bird  by  the  wayside :  "  Do  you  know  where  the 
tongue-cut  sparrow  lives?  Do  you  know  where  the 
tongue-cut  sparrow  went  ?  " 

In  this  way  they  followed  until  they  came  to  a 
bridge.  They  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn,  and 
at  first  could  see  no  one  to  ask. 

At  last  they  saw  a  bat  hanging  head,  downward, 
taking  his  daytime  nap.  "  O  friend  Bat,  do  you  know 
where  the  tongue-cut  sparrow  went  ?  "  they  asked. 

"  Yes.  Over  the  bridge  and  up  the  mountain,"  said 
the  bat.  Then  he  blinked  his  sleepy  eyes  and  was  fast 
asleep  again. 

They  went  over  the  bridge  and  up  the  mountain, 
but  again  they  found  two  roads  and  did  not  know 
which  one  to  take.  A  little  field  mouse  peeped  through 

89 


STORY    TELLING 

the  leaves  and  grass,  so  they  asked  him,  "  Do  you 
know  where  the  tongue-cut  sparrow  went  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Down  the  mountain  and  through  the  woods/1 
said  the  field  mouse. 

Down  the  mountain  and  through  the  woods  they 
went,  and  at  last  came  to  the  home  of  their  little 
friend. 

When  he  saw  them  coming  the  poor  little  sparrow 
was  very  happy  indeed.  He  and  his  wife  and  children 
all  came  and  bowed  their  heads  down  to  the  ground 
to  show  their  respect.  Then  the  sparrow  rose  and 
led  the  old  man  and  the  old  woman  into  the  house, 
while  his  wife  and  children  hastened  to  bring  them 
boiled  rice,  fish,  cress,  and  sake. 

After  they  had  feasted  the  sparrow  wished  to  please 
them  still  more,  so  he  danced  for  them  what  is  called 
the  "  sparrow  dance." 

When  the  sun  began  to  sink  the  old  man  and  woman 
started  home.  The  sparrow  brought  out  two  baskets. 
"  I  would  like  to  give  you  one  of  these,"  he  said. 
"  Which  will  you  take  ?  "  One  basket  was  large  and 
looked  very  full,  while  the  other  one  seemed  very 
small  and  light.  The  old  people  thought  they  would 
not  take  the  large  basket,  for  that  might  have  all  the 
sparrow's  treasure  in  it,  so  they  said,  "  The  way  is 
long  and  we  are  very  old,  so  please  let  us  take  the 
smaller  one." 

They  took  it  and  walked  home  over  the  mountain 
and  across  the  bridge,  happy  and  contented. 

When  they  reached  their  own  home  they  decided  to 
open  the  basket  and  see  what  the  sparrow  had  given 
them.  Within  the  basket  they  found  many  rolls  of 
silk  and  piles  of  gold,  enough  to  make  them  rich,  so 
they  were  more  grateful  than  ever  to  the  sparrow. 

90 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

The  cross  old  woman  who  had  cut  the  sparrow's 
tongue  was  peering  in  through  the  screen  when  they 
opened  their  basket.  She  saw  the  rolls  of  silk  and 
piles  of  gold,  and  planned  how  she  might  get  some 
for  herself. 

The  next  morning  she  went  to  the  kind  woman  and 
said,  "  I  am  so  sorry  that  I  cut  the  tongue  of  your 
sparrow.  Please  tell  me  the  way  to  his  home  so 
that  I  may  go  to  him  and  tell  him  I  am  sorry." 

The  kind  woman  told  her  the  way  and  she  set  out. 
She  went  across  the  bridge,  over  the  mountain,  and 
through  the  woods.  At  last  she  came  to  the  home  of 
the  little  sparrow. 

He  was  not  so  glad  to  see  this  old  woman,  yet  he 
was  very  kind  to  her  and  did  everything  to  make  her 
feel  welcome.  They  made  a  feast  for  her,  and  when 
she  started  home  the  sparrow  brought  out  two  bas- 
kets as  before.  Of  course  the  woman  chose  the  large 
basket,  for  she  thought  that  would  have  even  more 
wealth  than  the  other  one. 

It  was  very  heavy,  and  caught  on  the  trees  as  she 
was  going  through  the  wood.  She  could  hardly  pull 
it  up  the  mountain  with  her,  and  she  was  all  out  of 
breath  when  she  reached  the  top.  She  did  not  get 
to  the  bridge  until  it  was  dark.  Then  she  was  so 
afraid  of  dropping  the  basket  into  the  river  that  she 
scarcely  dared  to  step. 

When  at  last  she  reached  home  she  was  so  tired 
that  she  was  half  dead,  but  she  pulled  the  screens 
close  shut,  so  that  no  one  could  look  in,  and  opened 
her  treasure. 

Treasure  indeed!  A  whole  swarm  of  horrible  crea- 
tures burst  from  the  basket  the  moment  she  opened 
it.  They  stung  her  and  bit  her,  they  pushed  her  and 

91 


STORY    TELLING 

pulled  her,  they  scratched  her  and  laughed  at  her 
screams. 

At  last  she  crawled  to  the  edge  of  the  room  and 
slid  aside  the  screen  to  get  away  from  the  pests.  The 
moment  the  door  was  opened  they  swooped  down  upon 
her,  picked  her  up,  and  flew  away  with  her.  Since 
then  nothing  has  ever  been  heard  of  the  old  woman. 


THE   WHITE   HARE   AND  THE   CROCODILES1 
FBOM  OZAKI'S  "THE  JAPANESE  FAIEY  BOOK" 

LONG,  long  ago,  when  all  the  animals  could  talk, 
there  lived  in  the  province  of  Inaba  in  Japan,  a  little 
white  hare.  His  home  was  on  the  island  of  Oki,  and 
just  across  the  sea  was  the  mainland  of  Inaba. 

Now  the  hare  wanted  very  .much  to  cross  over  to 
Inaba.  Day  after  day  he  would  go  out  and  sit  on 
the  shore  and  look  longingly  over  the  water  in  the 
direction  of  Inaba,  and  day  after  day  he  hoped  to 
find  some  way  of  getting  across. 

One  day  as  usual,  the  hare  was  standing  on  the 
beach,  looking  towards  the  mainland  across  the  water, 
when  he  saw  a  great  crocodile  swimming  near  the 
island. 

"This  is  very  lucky!  "  thought  the  hare.  "  Now  I 
shall  be  able  to  get  my  wish.  I  will  ask  the  crocodile 
to  carry  me  across  the  sea!  " 

But  he  was  doubtful  whether  the  crocodile  would 
consent  to  do  what  he  asked,  so  he  thought  instead  of 
asking  a  favor  he  would  try  to  get  what  he  wanted 
by  a  trick. 

1  Copyright,  E.  P.  BUTTON  &  Co.    Used  by  permission. 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

So  with  a  loud  voice  he  called  to  the  crocodile,  and 
said: 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Crocodile,  is  n't  it  a  lovely  day  ?  " 

The  crocodile,  who  had  come  out  all  by  itself  that 
day  to  enjoy  the  bright  sunshine,  was  just  beginning 
to  feel  a  bit  lonely  when  the  hare's  cheerful  greeting 
broke  the  silence.  The  crocodile  swam  nearer  the 
shore,  very  pleased  to  hear  someone  speak. 

"  I  wonder  who  it  was  that  spoke  to  me  just  now ! 
Was  it  you,  Mr  Hare?  You  must  be  very  lonely  all 
by  yourself!  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  not  at  all  lonely,"  said  the  hare, 
"  but  as  it  was  such  a  fine  day  I  came  out  here  to 
enjoy  myself.  Won't  you  stop  and  play  with  me  a 
little  while?" 

The  crocodile  came  out  of  the  sea  and  sat  on  the 
shore,  and  the  two  played  together  for  some  time. 
Then  the  hare  said: 

"  Mr.  Crocodile,  you  live  in  the  sea  and  I  live  on 
this  island,  and  we  do  not  often  meet,  so  I  know  very 
little  about  you.  Tell  me,  do  you  think  the  number  of 
your  company  is  greater  than  mine?  " 

"  Of  course  there  are  more  crocodiles  than  hares," 
answered  the  crocodile.  "  Can  you  not  see  that  for 
yourself?  You  live  on  this  small  island,  while  I  live 
in  the  sea,  which  spreads  through  all  parts  of  the 
world;  so  if  I  call  together  all  the  crocodiles  who 
dwell  in  the  sea  you  hares  will  be  as  nothing  com- 
pared to  us!  "  The  crocodile  was  very  conceited. 

The  hare,  who  meant  to  play  a  trick  on  the  croco- 
dile, said: 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible  for  you  to  call  up  enough 
crocodiles  to  form  a  line  from  this  island  across  the 
sea  to  Inaba  ?  " 

93 


STORY    TELLING 

The  crocodile  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then 
answered : 

"  Of  course  it  is  possible." 

"  Then  do  try,"  said  the  artful  hare,  "  and  I  will 
count  the  number  from  here!  " 

The  crocodile,  who  was  very  simple-minded,  and 
who  hadn't  the  least  idea  that  the  hare  intended  to 
play  a  trick  on  him,  agreed  to  do  what  the  hare  asked, 
and  said: 

"  Wait  a  little  while  I  go  back  into  the  sea  and  call 
my  company  together!  " 

The  crocodile  plunged  into  the  sea  and  was  gone 
for  some  time.  The  hare,  meanwhile,  waited  patiently 
on  the  shore.  At  last  the  crocodile  appeared,  bringing 
with  him  a  large  number  of  other  crocodiles. 

"  Look,  Mr.  Hare !  "  said  the  crocodile,  "  it  is  noth- 
ing for  my  friends  to  form  a  line  between  here  and 
Inaba.  There  are  enough  crocodiles  to  stretch  from 
here  even  as  far  as  China  or  India.  Did  you  ever  see 
so  many  crocodiles  ?  " 

Then  the  whole  company  of  crocodiles  arranged 
themselves  in  the  water  so  as  to  form  a  bridge  between 
the  island  of  Oki  and  the  mainland  of  Inaba.  When 
the  hare  saw  the  bridge  of  crocodiles,  he  said : 

"  How  splendid !  I  did  not  believe  this  was  pos- 
sible. Now  let  me  count  you  all!  To  do  this,  how- 
ever, with  your  permission,  I  must  walk  over  on  your 
backs  to  the  other  side,  so  please  be  so  good  as  not 
to  move,  or  else  I  shall  fall  into  the  sea  and  be 
drowned!  " 

So  the  hare  hopped  off  the  island  on  to  the  strange 
bridge  of  crocodiles,  counting  as  he  jumped  from  one 
crocodile's  back  to  the  other: 

"  Please  keep  quite  still,  or  I  shall  not  be  able  to 

94 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

count.     One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven,  eight, 
nine " 

Thus  the  cunning  hare  walked  right  across  to  the 
mainland  of  Inaba.  Not  content  with  getting  his  wish, 
he  began  to  jeer  at  the  crocodiles  instead  of  thank- 
ing them  and  said,  as  he  leapt  off  the  last  one's 
back: 

"  Oh !  you  stupid  crocodiles,  now  I  have  done  with 
you!  " 

And  he  was  just  about  to  run  away  as  fast  as  he 
could.  But  he  did  not  escape  so  easily,  for  as  soon 
as  the  crocodiles  understood  that  this  was  a  trick 
played  upon  them  by  the  hare  so  as  to  enable  him  to 
cross  the  sea,  and  that  the  hare  was  now  laughing 
at  them  for  their  stupidity,  they  became  furiously 
angry  and  made  up  their  minds  to  take  revenge.  So 
some  of  them  ran  after  the  hare  and  caught  him. 
Then  all  surrounded  the  poor  little  animal  and  pulled 
out  all  his  fur.  He  cried  out  loudly  and  entreated 
them  to  spare  him,  but  with  each  tuft  of  fur  they 
pulled  out,  they  said: 

"  Serve  you  right !  " 

When  the  crocodiles  had  pulled  out  the  last  bit  of 
fur,  they  threw  the  poor  hare  on  the  beach,  and  all 
swam  away  laughing  at  what  they  had  done. 

The  hare  was  now  in  a  pitiful  plight,  all  his  beau- 
tiful white  fur  had  been  pulled  out,  and  his  bare 
little  body  was  quivering  with  pain  and  bleeding  all 
over.  He  could  hardly  move,  and  all  he  could  do  was 
to  lie  on  the  beach  quite  helpless  and  weep  over  the 
misfortune  that  had  befallen  him.  Notwithstand- 
ing that  it  was  his  own  fault  that  had  brought  all 
this  misery  and  suffering  upon  the  white  hare  of 
Inaba,  anyone  seeing  the  poor  little  creature  could 

95 


STORY    TELLING 

not  help  feeling  sorry  for  him  in  his  sad  condition, 
for  the  crocodiles  had  been  very  cruel  in  their 
revenge. 

Just  at  this  time  a  number  of  men,  who  looked  like 
kings'  sons,  happened  to  pass  by,  and  seeing  the  hare 
lying  on  the  beach  crying,  stopped  and  asked  what  was 
the  matter. 

The  hare  lifted  up  his  head  from  between  his  paws, 
and  answered  them,  saying: 

"  I  had  a  fight  with  some  crocodiles,  but  I  was 
beaten,  and  they  pulled  out  all  my  fur  and  left  me 
to  suffer  here  —  that  is  why  I  am  crying." 

Now  one  of  these  young  men  had  a  bad  and  spiteful 
disposition.  But  he  feigned  kindness,  and  said  to  the 
hare: 

"  I  feel  very  sorry  for  you.  If  you  will  only  try  it, 
I  know  of  a  remedy  which  will  cure  your  sore  body. 
Go  and  bathe  yourself  in  the  sea,  and  then  come  and 
sit  in  the  wind.  This  will  make  your  fur  grow  again, 
and  you  will  be  just  as  you  were  before." 

Then  all  the  young  men  passed  on.  The  hare  was 
very  pleased,  thinking  that  he  had  found  a  cure.  He 
went  and  bathed  in  the  sea  and  then  came  out  and 
sat  where  the  wind  could  blow  upon  him. 

But  as  the  wind  blew  and  dried  him,  his  skin  be- 
came drawn  and  hardened,  and  the  salt  increased  the 
pain  so  much  that  he  rolled  on  the  sand  in  his  agony 
and  cried  aloud. 

Just  then  another  king's  son  passed  by,  carrying  a 
great  bag  on  his  back.  He  saw  the  hare,  and  stopped 
and  asked  why  he  was  crying  so  loudly. 

But  the  poor  hare,  remembering  that  he  had  been 
deceived  by  one  very  like  the  man  who  now  spoke  to 
him,  did  not  answer,  but  continued  to  cry. 

96 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

But  this  man  had  a  kind  heart,  and  looked  at  the 
hare  very  pityingly,  and  said: 

"  You  poor  thing!  I  see  that  your  fur  is  all  pulled 
out  and  that  your  skin  is  quite  bare.  Who  can  have 
treated  you  so  cruelly  ?  " 

When  the  hare  heard  these  kind  words  he  felt 
very  grateful  to  the  man,  and  encouraged  by  his  gentle 
manner  the  hare  told  him  all  that  had  befallen  him. 
The  little  animal  hid  nothing  from  his  friend,  but  told 
him  frankly  how  he  had  played  a  trick  on  the  croco- 
diles and  how  he  had  come  across  the  bridge  they 
had  made,  thinking  that  he  wished  to  count  their 
number;  how  he  had  jeered  at  them  for  their  stupid- 
ity, and  then  how  the  crocodiles  had  revenged  them- 
selves on  him.  Then  he  went  on  to  say  how  he  had 
been  deceived  by  a  party  of  men  who  looked  very  like 
his  kind  friend;  and  the  hare  ended  his  long  tale  of 
woe  by  begging  the  man  to  give  him  some  medicine 
that  would  cure  him  and  make  his  fur  grow  again. 

When  the  hare  had  finished  his  story,  the  man  was 
full  of  pity  towards  him,  and  said: 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  all  you  have  suffered,  but 
remember,  it  was  only  the  consequence  of  the  deceit 
you  practised  on  the  crocodiles." 

"  I  know,"  answered  the  sorrowful  hare,  "  but  I  have 
repented  and  made  up  my  mind  never  to  use  deceit 
again,  so  I  beg  you  to  show  me  how  I  may  cure  my 
sore  body  and  make  the  fur  grow  again." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you  of  a  good  remedy,"  said  the 
man.  "  First  go  and  bathe  well  in  that  pond  over 
there  and  try  to  wash  all  the  salt  from  your  body. 
Then  pick  some  of  those  kaba  flowers  that  are  grow- 
ing near  the  edge  of  the  water,  spread  them  on  the 
ground  and  roll  yourself  on  them.  If  you  do  this  the 

97 


STORY    TELLING 

pollen  will  cause  your  fur  to  grow  again,  and  you  will 
be  quite  well  in  a  little  while." 

The  hare  was  very  glad  to  be  told  what  to  do  so 
kindly.  He  crawled  to  the  pond  pointed  out  to  him, 
bathed  well  in  it,  and  then  picked  the  kaba  flowers 
growing  near  the  water,  and  rolled  himself  on  them. 

To  his  amazement,  even  while  he  was  doing  this,  he 
saw  his  nice  white  fur  growing  again,  the  pain  ceased, 
and  he  felt  just  as  he  had  done  before  all  his  mis- 
fortunes. 

The  hare  was  overjoyed  at  his  quick  recovery,  and 
went  hopping  joyfully  towards  the  young  man  who 
had  so  helped  him,  and  kneeling  down  at  his  feet, 
said: 

"  I  cannot  express  my  thanks  for  all  you  have  done 
for  me!  It  is  my  earnest  wish  to  do  something  for 
you  in  return.  Please  tell  me  who  you  are  ?  " 

"  I  am  no  king's  son,  as  you  think  me.  I  am  a 
fairy,  and  my  name  is  Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto,"  an- 
swered the  man,  "  and  those  beings  who  passed  here 
before  me  are  my  brothers.  They  have  heard  of  a 
beautiful  princess  called  Yakami  who  lives  in  this 
province  of  Inaba,  and  they  are  on  their  way  to  find 
her  and  to  ask  her  to  marry  one  of  them.  But  on 
this  expedition,  I  am  only  an  attendant,  so  I  am 
walking  behind  them  with  this  great  bag  on  my 
back." 

The  hare  humbled  himself  before  this  great  fairy 
Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto,  whom  many  in  that  part  of 
the  land  worshipped  as  a  god. 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  Okuni-nushi- 
no-Mikoto.  How  kind  you  have  been  to  me!  It  is 
impossible  to  believe  that  that  unkind  fellow  who  sent 
me  to  bathe  in  the  sea  is  one  of  your  brothers.  I  am 
quite  sure  that  the  Princess  whom  your  brothers 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

have  gone  to  seek  will  refuse  to  be  the  bride  of  any 
of  them,  and  will  prefer  you  for  your  goodness  of 
heart.  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  will  win  her  heart 
without  intending  to  do  so,  and  she  will  ask  to  be 
your  bride." 

Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto  took  no  notice  of  what  the 
hare  said,  but  bidding  the  little  animal  good-bye, 
went  on  his  way  quickly,  and  soon  overtook  his 
brothers.  He  found  them  just  entering  the  Prin- 
cess's gate. 

Just  as  the  hare  had  said,  the  Princess  could  not 
be  persuaded  to  become  the  bride  of  any  of  the 
brothers,  but  when  she  looked  at  the  kind  brother's 
face  she  went  straight  up  to  him  and  said: 

"  To  you  I  give  myself."    And  so  they  were  married. 

This  is  the  end  of  the  story.  Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto 
is  worshipped  by  the  people  in  some  parts  of  Japan, 
as  a  god,  and  the  hare  has  become  famous  as  "  The 
White  Hare  of  Inaba."  But  what  became  of  the 
crocodiles  nobody  knows. 

THE    BOASTFUL   BAMBOO1 

FROM  ROULET'S  "  JAPANESE  FOLK  STORIES  AND 
FAIRY  TALES  " 

BENEATH  the  gleaming  snows  of  Fuji  lay  a  great 

forest.     There  many  giant  trees  grew,  the  fir,  the  pine, 

the   graceful   bamboo,   and   the   camellia   trees.     The 

balmy  azaleas  and  the  crinkled  iris  bloomed  in  the 

shade.     The    blue    heavens    were    fleecy    with    snowy 

clouds,  and  gentle  zephyrs  caressed  the  blossoms  and 

made  them  bow  like  worshippers  before  a  shrine. 

Side  by  side  there  grew  two  bamboo  trees.     One 

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STORY    TELLING 

of  these  was  tall,  strong,  and  stately;  and  he 
reared  his  haughty  head  to  heaven  and  bowed  not  to 
the  North  Wind  as  he  passed.  The  other  was  a 
slender  bamboo,  so  slight  and  delicate  that  it  swayed 
with  every  breeze,  and  moaned  with  fright  when  a 
storm  swept  down  the  wrath  of  the  mountain. 

The  children  loved  the  graceful  bamboo,  and  named 
her  Silver  Mist;  but  the  big  bamboo  looked  down 
upon  her  with  scorn. 

"  You  bend  and  bow  to  every  breeze.  Have  you 
no  pride?  It  is  not  fitting  that  a  bamboo  should 
show  fear.  I  stand  straight  and  strong  and  bow  to 
no  one,"  he  said. 

"  You  are  going  to  be  of  some  great  use  in  the 
world,  I  am  sure,"  said  the  humble  bamboo.  "  I  am 
only  fit  to  trim  the  houses  for  the  New  Year's 
feast.  But  you  will  become  a  beam  in  some  great 
house  or,  maybe,  even  in  a  palace." 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  be  only  that,"  cried  the 
boastful  bamboo  with  a  scornful  laugh.  "  I  am 
indeed  intended  for  something  great.  I  think  I  shall 
be  chosen  for  the  mast  of  a  mighty  ship.  Then  will 
the  wings  of  the  ship  swell  with  the  breeze,  and  it 
will  fly  over  the  ocean,  and  I  shall  see  strange  lands 
and  new  peoples.  All  men  will  behold  me  and  will 
say,  '  See  the  stately  bamboo  which  graces  yonder 
junk!  '  As  for  you,  poor  timorous  one,  you  are  not 
even  brave  enough  to  deck  the  New  Year's  feast. 
You  will  be  used  to  make  mats  for  people  to  tread 
under  foot." 

The  slim  little  bamboo  did  not  answer  back.  She 
only  bent  her  head  and  cried  bitterly.  The  flowers 
felt  sorry  for  her  and  breathed  their  soft  perfume 
about  her  to  comfort  her. 

100 


MISCELLANEOUS    STOBIES 

As  the  days  went  by  the  slim  bamboo  grew  pret- 
tier, and  the  children  loved  her  more  and  more. 
They  played  beneath  her  waving  branches,  they  made 
flower  chains  and  garlands  and  hung  them  from  her 
boughs. 

"  See,"  they  cried  in  childish  glee.  "  This  is  the 
Lady  Silver  Mist.  Let  us  tie  a  flower  obi  around  her 
slender  waist "  \  and  they  bound  a  girdle  of  flowers 
about  her. 

One  day  there  came  woodmen  to  the  forest,  and 
they  chopped  down  many  of  the  trees,  trampling  the 
grass  and  the  flowers  under  foot.  When  they  saw 
the  big  bamboo  they  said: 

"  Here  is  a  tall  straight  tree.  It  will  do  for  a 
mast.  We  will  cut  it  first." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  the  boastful  bamboo  to  the  slen- 
der one.  "  I  am  going  to  see  the  world  and  do  great 
things.  Good-bye,  child,  I  hope  you  will  not  be  used 
to  make  rain  coats.  When  I  am  on  the  bright  and 
beautiful  sea  I  shall  remember  and  pity  you!  " 

"  Good-bye,"  sighed  his  little  comrade.  "  Good  for- 
tune go  with  you." 

The  big  bamboo  was  cut  down,  and  the  hillside 
saw  him  no  more.  When,  however,  the  woodmen  came 
to  the  little  tree,  they  smiled  to  see  it  so  beautifully 
garlanded  with  flowers  and  they  said,  "  This  little  tree 
has  friends." 

Then  the  children  took  courage  and  ran  to  the 
woodcutters  and  cried,  "  Pray  do  not  cut  down  our 
tree!  In  all  the  forest  we  love  it  best.  It  is  the 
Lady  Silver  Mist  and  it  has  been  our  playmate  for 
many  moons." 

"  You  must  dig  it  up  and  bear  it  away  if  you  wish 
to  save  its  life,"  said  the  chief  woodman.  "We  are 

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STORY    TELLING 

sent  to  this  forest  to  clear  it,  so  that  a  grand  palace 
may  be  built  upon  the  hillside  where  all  is  so  fair 
and  beautiful." 

"  Gladly  will  we  root  her  up  and  take  her  to  our 
home/'  answered  the  eldest  child;  and  very  care- 
fully they  dug  her  up,  not  destroying  even  a  single 
root,  for  the  woodman  helped  them,  so  kind  was  he 
and  of  a  good  heart. 

They  placed  the  slim  bamboo  in  a  lovely  garden 
beside  the  sea,  and  she  grew  fair  and  stately  and 
was  happy.  All  around  was  calm  and  beautiful. 
The  sea  waves  lapped  the  coral  strand.  By  day,  the 
sun  shone  on  the  tawny  sands  and  turned  them  to 
gold;  the  sky  was  blue  as  a  turquoise,  and  pearly 
clouds  floated  across  it  like  shadowy  angel's  wings. 
By  night  the  moon  goddess  rose  in  silvery  beauty  and 
bathed  the  garden  in  light;  it  kissed  the  leaves  of 
the  bamboo,  until  the  dew  sparkled  upon  them  like 
diamonds  in  a  setting  of  silver. 

Fragrant  flowers  bloomed  at  the  bamboo's  feet: 
irises  from  their  meadow  home,  azaleas,  rare  lotus 
lilies,  and  a  fringe  of  purple  wistaria  wafting  its 
breath  in  friendship  upon  her.  Here  she  grew  in 
strength  and  grace.  All  things  were  her  friends,  for 
she  gave  to  all  of  her  sweetness;  and  to  the  winds 
she  bowed  her  head. 

"  Great  North  Wind,"  she  said  gently,  "  how  thou 
art  strong!  "  And  to  the  South  Wind  she  said, 
"  How  sweet  and  kind  thou  art!  "  To  the  flowers  she 
gave  shade  and  to  the  children,  who  still  loved  her, 
companionship. 

One  night  she  shivered  and  bowed  her  head  very, 
very  low,  for  there  came  a  storm  from  the  sea,  a 
storm  so  fierce  and  wild  as  to  frighten  her  very 

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MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

soul.  The  waves  of  the  sea  tossed  the  white  foam 
heavenward;  they  rose  up  in  giant  walls  of  fury 
until  ships  sunk  in  the  troughs  between  and  were 
dashed  to  pieces.  The  beach  was  strewn  with 
wrecks,  and  when  daylight  came,  Lady  Silver  Mist 
gazed  upon  the  scene.  She  recognized  her  old  friend, 
the  great  bamboo,  prostrate  upon  the  ground,  while 
all  around  him  lay  bits  of  the  junk  over  which  he 
had  reared  his  haughty  head. 

"  Alas !  my  poor  friend !  "  she  cried.  "  What  a  sad 
fate  is  yours!  Would  that  I  could  aid  you!  " 

"  No  one  can  help  me,  "  he  replied  with  a  moan. 
"  Would  that  I  had  been  made  jnto  a  common  coolie 
pole  with  which  to  push  a  country  junk!  Then 
might  I  have  been  useful  for  many  years!  No,  my 
heart  is  broken,  Silver  Mist.  Farewell." 

He  gave  a  long  shuddering  sigh  and  spoke  no  more. 
Soon  some  men,  who  came  to  clear  up  the  wreckage, 
chopped  the  mast  up  for  firewood;  and  that  was  the 
end  of  the  boastful  bamboo. 


THE  PRINCESS  MOONBEAM1 

FROM  ROULET'S  "JAPANESE  FOLK  STORIES  AND 
FAIRY  TALES  " 

A  WOODMAN  once  dwelt  with  his  wife  at  the  edge  of 
the  forest,  under  the  shadow  of  the  Honorable  Moun- 
tain. The  two  were  industrious  and  good,  but  though 
they  loved  each  other  they  were  not  happy.  No 
children  had  come  to  bless  them  and  this  the  wife 
mourned  deeply. 

The  husband  pitied  her  and  treated  her  very  kindly, 

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STORY    TELLING 

yet  still  she  was  sad.  As  she  gazed  upon  the  snows 
of  Fujiyama  her  heart  swelled  within  her  and  she 
prostrated  herself  and  said,  "  Fuji  no  yama,  Hon- 
orable Mountain,  my  heart  is  heavy  because  no 
childish  arms  encircle  my  neck,  no  little  head  nestles 
in  my  bosom.  From  thy  eternal  purity  send  some 
little  white  soul  to  comfort  me!  " 

The  Honorable  Mountain  spoke  not;  yet  as  she 
prayed,  lo,  from  its  heights  there  sparkled  and  glowed 
a  tiny  light.  Fitful  and  gleaming  it  seemed,  yet  it 
had  a  silver  radiance  as  of  the  moon. 

The  woodman's  wife  beheld  it,  and  she  called  to  her 
husband  eagerly,  "  Come  hither,  I  pray  you.  See 
the  strange  light  which  comes  from  Fuji  San.  I 
seem  to  see  a  face  smiling  at  me.  It  is  the  face 
of  a  little  child!  " 

Then  her  husband  smiled  at  her  fancy,  but,  be- 
cause he  loved  her,  he  said  indulgently,  "  I  will  go 
and  see  what  it  is." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  lord ;  go  quickly !  "  she  replied. 
So  quickly  he  went  to  the  forest,  and  as  he 
neared  a  mountain  stream,  with  Fuji  gleaming  cold 
and  white  in  the  moonlight,  he  saw  the  strange  light, 
which  seemed  to  hover  and  rest  upon  the  branches 
of  a  tall  bamboo.  Hastening  thither  he  found  there 
a  moon  child,  a  tiny,  fragile,  fairy  thing,  more 
beautiful  than  any  child  he  had  ever  seen. 

"  Little  creature,"  he  said.  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 
"  My  name  is  Princess  Moonbeam,"  she  answered 
sweetly.  "  My  mother  is  the  Moon  Lady,  and  she 
has  sent  me  to  Earth  because  every  moon  child  must 
do  some  good  thing,  else  will  its  silvery  light  be- 
come pale  and  wan  and  be  of  no  avail." 

"  Little   Princess,"   he   said  eagerly,   "  the  best  of 

104 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

good  deeds  is  to  comfort  a  sad  heart.  Come  home 
with  me  and  be  a  child  to  my  wife,  who  weeps  for 
children.  Thus  will  your  beams  grow  bright." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  said  the  little  Moonbeam, 
and,  rejoicing  greatly,  he  bore  her  tenderly  to  his 
wife. 

"  I  bring  you  a  treasure,"  he  said.  "  The  Moon  Lady 
sends  you  this  beam  of  light  to  lighten  your  sad 
heart." 

Then  was  his  wife  much  overjoyed,  and  she  took 
the  little  creature  to  her  bosom  and  cared  for  her. 

Lovelier  grew  the  Moon  Child  every  year  and  much 
she  rejoiced  the  hearts  of  her  foster  parents.  Her 
hair  was  like  a  golden  aureole  about  her  face.  Her 
eyes  were  deep  and  tender,  her  cheeks  were  pale 
and  delicate,  and  about  her  there  was  a  subtle  and 
unearthly  charm.  Every  one  loved  her,  even  the  em- 
peror's son,  who,  hunting  in  the  forest,  saw  her  light- 
ing up  the  humble  cottage  with  her  heavenly  light. 
He  loved  her  dearly  and  she  loved  him,  but  alas!  she 
could  not  marry  him  because  her  life  upon  earth 
could  be  but  twenty  years.  Then  she  must  return  to 
her  home  in  the  moon,  for  so  willed  her  mother  the 
Moon  Lady. 

At  last  the  day  came  when  she  must  go.  Her  par- 
ents wept,  and  could  not  be  consoled ;  and  her  lover, 
who  was  now  the  Emperor,  could  not  keep  her,  al- 
though he  besought  High  Heaven  to  spare  her. 

Her  mother  caught  her  up  in  a  silver  moonbeam; 
and  all  the  way  to  the  moon  the  little  Princess  wept 
silvery  tears.  As  the  tears  fell  from  her  eyes,  lo! 
they  took  wings  and  floated  away,  looking  for  the 
form  of  her  beloved,  the  Emperor,  who  might  see  her 
no  more. 

105 


STORY    TELLING 

But  the  silver-bright  tears  are  seen  to  this  day 
floating  hither  and  yon  about  the  vales  and  marshes 
of  fair  Nippon.  The  children  chase  them  with  happy 
cries,  and  say,  "  See  the  fireflies !  How  fair  they  are ! 
Whence  came  they  ?  " 

Then  their  mothers  relate  to  them  the  legend  and 
say,  "  These  are  the  tears  of  the  little  Princess,  flit- 
ting to  seek  her  beloved " ;  and  over  all,  calm  and 
eternal,  smiles  the  Honorable  Mountain. 


THE    MIRROR   OF   MATSUYAMA 

TOLD  BY  A  TEACHER  IN  JAPAN 

ONCE  long,  ago  in  Matsuyama,  there  lived  a  father 
and  mother  and  little  girl.  They  were  very  happy, 
for  they  loved  each  other  dearly. 

One  day  a  very  exciting  thing  happened,  when  the 
father  came  home  with  the  news  that  the  Emperor  had 
sent  for  him  to  come  to  Tokio.  The  little  girl  was 
very  glad,  because  she  knew  her  father  would  have 
such  interesting  things  to  tell  when  he  came  back,  and 
perhaps  he  would  bring  her  some  presents,  too.  The 
mother  was  very  proud,  because  no  one  had  ever  been 
sent  for  by  the  Emperor  before,  and  the  father  was 
proud  too;  only  he  knew  how  long  he  would  be  gone, 
for  there  were  no  trains,  and  he  had  no  horse,  so  he 
must  walk  all  the  way  there  and  back. 

At  last  the  day  came  when  the  father  was  to  set 
out,  and  the  mother  took  the  little  girl  by  the  hand, 
and  the  three  of  them  walked  through  the  village  till 
they  came  to  the  path  which  led  up  the  mountain. 
They  said  "  Good-bye  "  and  the  mother  and  little  girl 

106 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

stood  and  watched  the  father  till  he  disappeared  up 
the  mountain;  then  they  did  just  what  mothers  and 
little  girls  have  always  done,  they  went  home  and 
began  to  count  on  their  fingers  the  days  before  his 
return. 

At  last  the  days  ran  away,  the  very  day  came  when 
the  father  was  expected,  and  hand  in  hand  the  mother 
and  little  girl  went  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  where 
they  had  said  good-bye  and  waited.  By-and-by  they 
caught  a  glimpse  of  some,  one  coming  through  the 
trees  of  the  forest,  and,  sure  enough,  there  was  the 
father. 

Oh!  how  glad  the  little  girl  was  to  see  him  again, 
and  how  happy  the  mother  was  to  have  her  husband 
again!  The  father  brought  some  presents  for  the  little 
girl,  —  a  slant-eyed  dolly,  and  a  queer  little  canton- 
flannel  monkey  that  ran  up  and  down  a  pole  when 
you  pulled  a  string,  and,  last  of  all,  something  which 
they  called  a  dragon-fly.  It  did  n't  look  like  a  dragon- 
fly, but  when  you  twisted  it  in  your  fingers,  it  spread 
its  wings  and  flew  away  like  a  real  dragon-fly. 

As  soon  as  the  little  girl  had  looked  at  all  her  pres- 
ents and  heard  of  the  wonderful  things  her  father  had 
seen,  she  ran  away  to  play. 

When  they  were  alone,  the  father  took  out  a  white 
box  and  handed  it  to  his  wife.  "Here  is  a  present 
for  you,  my  dear,"  he  said. 

His  wife  opened  the  box  and  looked  in.  There  was 
a  round  shining  silver  thing,  with  beautiful  carved 
fruit  and  flowers  on  it,  and  when  she  turned  it  over, 
it  was  smooth  and  shining  like  a  pool  of  water. 

She  leaned  over  to  look  at  it  more  closely  and  she 
exclaimed,  "Oh!  what  a  beautiful  picture."  Then 
her  eyes  grew  large  with  wonder.  "How  strange," 

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STORY    TELLING 

she  cried,  "  her  dress  is  blue  like  mine,  and  her  eyes 
are  like  mine;  and  when  I  talk  she  seems  to  be  talk- 
ing too!  " 

Then  her  husband  laughed.  "  That 's  a  mirror,"  he 
said.  "All  the  ladies  in  Tokio  have  them,  and  that 
is  yourself  you  are  looking  at." 

She  took  the  box  to  her  room,  and  put  it  away,  but 
ever  she  found  herself  going  to  it,  and  looking  in,  for 
she  loved  to  see  how  her  eyes  shone  and  how  red  her 
lips  were. 

One  day  she  said  to  herself,  "  Why  should  I  look  so 
much  at  myself?  Surely  I  'm  no  more  beautiful  than 
many  other  women.  I  will  put  the  mirror  away  and 
look  at  it  only  once  every  year  to  see  if  my  face  is 
full  of  as  much  joy  as  it  has  been." 

So  she  put  the  mirror  away,  and  only  once  in  the 
year  did  she  open  the  box  and  look  at  her  face. 

The  years  passed  by,  and  the  little  girl  grew  from 
a  girl  to  a  woman  and  put  away  her  toys  and 
her  dolls.  As  she  grew  older,  she  grew  every  day  to 
look  more  and  more  like  her  mother,  until,  when 
she  was  a  woman,  she  was  the  very  image  of  her 
mother. 

Finally,  a  great  sadness  came  into  the  home.  The 
mother  was  taken  ill,  and  though  the  father  and 
daughter  did  all  they  could,  they  could  not  bring 
health  to  her  again.  One  day  she  called  to  her  daugh- 
ter and  said,  "  My  dear,  I  know  I  am  soon  going  to 
take  the  long  journey  from  whence  none  ever  return. 
I  want  you  to  have  something  which  will  always  re- 
mind you  of  me.  Go  now  and  bring  the  white  box 
from  my  room,  and  look  in." 

The  daughter  went  and  found  the  white  box,  and 
when  she  opened  it  and  looked  in,  as  her  mother  had 

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MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

done  so  long  before,  she  cried  out,  "  Oh,  mother !  Why, 
mother,  it 's  you !  Not  tired  and  sick  as  you  are  now, 
but  young  and  beautiful  as  I  remember  you,  when 
I  was  a  little  girl !  "  And  her  mother  said,  "  Yes, 
that  is  my  face.  I  want  you  to  open  the  box  and  look 
at  my  face  when  I  am  gone,  twice  every  day.  Be  sure 
and  bring  only  smiles,  then  I  will  smile  back  at  you, 
but  if  you  bring  tears,  then  you  will  see  only  tears 
and  sadness  in  my  face." 

When  the  mother  had  gone,  never  to  return,  the 
daughter  remembered  her  words. 

Twice  every  day,  once  when  the  sky  was  pink 
with  the  rising  sun,  and  once  when  it  set  red  in  the 
west,  she  opened  the  box  and  looked  at  the  face  of 
her  mother.  And  always  she  tried  to  bring  nothing 
but  smiles  when  she  opened  the  box,  so  her  mother's 
face  would  smile  back  at  her. 

The  version  as  given  in  Ozaki's  "  Japanese 
Fairy  Book  "  and  in  Ballard's  "  Fairy  Tales 
from  Far  Japan"  has  an  added  incident  of 
a  stepmother  which  is  not  given  in  the  text 
here.  It  was  not  told  to  the  author  by  the 
teacher  who  gave  the  version  just  quoted,  and 
it  seems  likely  that  it  may  have  been  added 
in  some  recitals  as  the  incident  of  the  ogre- 
mother  is  given  in  some  versions  of  the  "  Sleep- 
ing Beauty." 

The  dramatic  climax  for  the  story  teller 
certainly  is  the  death  of  the  mother,  and  the 
109 


STORY    TELLING 

influence   of   the   mirror   in    the  life   of   the 
daughter,  as  in  the  text  here  given. 

THE   OLD   MAN  WHO   BROUGHT   WITHERED 
TREES    TO    LIFE1 

FROM  LORD'S  "THE  TOUCH  OF  NATURE" 

LONG,  long  ago,  the  Japanese  story  teller  says,  a  good 
old  man  and  his  wife  bought  a  dog.  They  had  no 
children,  poor  old  people,  so  they  lavished  all  their 
attentions  on  the  dog.  The  old  lady  used  to  say 
roguishly  to  her  more  fortunate  neighbors,  "  I  think 
I  can  see  how  people  get  fond  of  children  if  they  can't 
have  a  dog."  The  dog  got  all  the  dainty  bits  from 
their  table,  and  of  course  he  grew  as  fond  of  his 
owners  as  they  were  of  him.  One  day  they  noticed 
the  dog  was  making  a  terrible  fuss  in  the  little  gar- 
den behind  the  house,  throwing  up  the  dirt  with  his 
paws,  and  working  away  for  dear  life,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  bark,  and  then  going  at  the  hole  he  had 
made  in  the  ground  with  fresh  vigor  and  a  great  wag- 
ging of  his  tail.  They  thought  he  must  be  after  some 
animal,  perhaps  a  mischievous  rat  which  had  been 
raiding  their  pantry;  so  they  ran  out  to  help  him 
with  hoe  and  spade.  What  was  their  surprise  and 
delight  when  just  a  few  feet  below  ground  they  came 
across  a  great  chest  full  of  gold  and  silver  and  all 
sorts  of  precious  things.  Out  of  it  they  gave  gener- 
ous gifts  to  the  poor,  and  with  what  was  left  they 
bought  some  fine  rice-fields,  and  soon  became  very  rich. 
Now  in  the  very  next  house  on  the  same  road  there 

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permission. 

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MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

lived  a  bad  old  man  and  his  wife;  and  as  soon  aa 
they  heard  the  cause  of  their  neighbors'  good  luck, 
they  borrowed  the  dog,  and  after  giving  him  a  great 
feast,  led  him  into  their  garden  by  a  string;  but  al- 
though they  patted  and  petted  him,  he  never  offered 
to  dig  anywhere,  and  not  a  bark  or  a  wag  of  the  tail 
could  they  get  out  of  him.  He  kept  his  tail  between 
his  legs,  and  made  frantic  efforts  to  get  away  and 
run  back  home.  Then  the  old  man  got  angry  and 
beat  the  dog,  who,  when  he  was  led  around  the  garden 
once  more,  stopped  by  a  bush  and  began  to  sniff.  The 
old  couple  thought  treasure  must  surely  be  hidden 
there,  and  began  to  dig;  but  all  they  found  was  an 
old  bone.  Then  they  killed  the  dog  and  buried  him 
under  a  pine-tree. 

Well,  the  days  went  on,  and  the  dog  did  not  come 
home;  and  by-and-by  the  wicked  old  man  had  to 
tell  what  had  happened.  Then  the  dog's  master  went 
to  the  grave  and  strewed  flowers  on  it,  and  burned 
incense  over  it,  and  set  a  tray  full  of  food  near  it 
for  the  dog's  spirit  to  take  on  his  journev  to  the 
spirit  land,  where  all  good  dogs  go  when  they  die,  and 
went  home  feeling  very  lonely  and  sad;  for  he  loved 
the  dog  and  missed  him. 

That  night  the  dog  appeared  to  him  in  a  dream  and 
told  him  to  cut  down  the  pine-tree  and  make  from  the 
trunk  near  the  roots  a  mortar  and  pestle,  and  to 
think  of  them  as  if  they  were  his  lost  pet.  Now  of 
course  the  wicked  old  man,  having  killed  the  dog,  did 
not  dare  to  refuse  the  request  of  his  neighbor;  so 
the  tree  was  cut  down,  and  the  mortar  and  pestle 
made. 

It  turned  out  to  be  a  wonderful  mortar;  for  when- 
ever the  good  old  man  ground  his  rice  in  it,  the  rice 

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STORY   TELLING 

was  changed  into  jewels.  Then  the  neighbors  came 
to  borrow  the  mortar;  now  of  course  it  was  foolish 
to  lend  it  to  them,  after  what  had  happened  to  the 
dog.  But  the  old  man  was  perfectly  willing  that 
every  one  should  share  in  his  good  fortune.  No 
sooner  did  the  bad-hearted  neighbors  put  rice  into  the 
mortar,  however,  than  the  rice  became  dirt.  In  a 
rage  they  threw  mortar  and  pestle  into  the  fire  and 
burned  them  up. 

The  simple-souled  old  owner  of  the  mortar  won- 
dered why  it  was  not  returned,  until  one  night  the 
dog  again  appeared  in  a  dream,  and  after  revealing 
the  meanness  and  treachery  of  the  old  couple  next 
door,  told  the  good  old  man  to  gather  up  the  ashes  of 
the  mortar,  for  they  were  very  precious.  Just  a  pinch 
of  them  thrown  in  the  air  among  the  branches  of  a 
withered  tree  would  cause  it  to  revive  and  break  out 
into  full  blossom.  So  the  old  man,  grieving  over  the 
loss  of  his  treasure,  ran  to  his  neighbors'  house  and 
asked  for  the  ashes,  which  they  gave  him  willingly, 
congratulating  themselves  that  they  had  escaped  pun- 
ishment, and  laughing  at  the  old  man's  foolishness. 

When  the  old  man  got  home,  he  climbed  up  into  a 
withered  cherry-tree  in  his  garden  and  threw  a  pinch 
of  the  precious  ashes  into  the  air.  Sure  enough, 
every  twig  broke  out  into  blossom,  and  the  air  was 
sweet  with  their  fragrance.  Then,  taking  the  ashes, 
the  old  man,  intent  on  giving  pleasure  to  other  people 
also,  journeyed  through  the  country,  and  everywhere 
he  went  the  withered  cherry-trees  and  plum-trees  and 
peach-trees  blossomed  as  no  trees  ever  blossomed  be- 
fore; and  all  the  land  was  filled  with  light  and  color. 
News  of  the  marvel  soon  reached  the  prince,  who  sent 
for  the  old  man,  and  after  witnessing  in  the  palace 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

gardens  an  exhibition  of  his  skill,  gave  him  a  present 
of  fine  silks  and  thanked  him  heartily  for  so  beauti- 
fying the  land. 

Now  the  bad  neighbor,  who  had  not  cared  at  all 
about  what  his  old  acquaintance  had  been  doing  be- 
fore, the  moment  he  heard  of  the  prince's  reward, 
gathered  up  some  of  the  ashes  of  the  mortar  that 
remained  where  it  had  been  burnt,  and  hastening  to 
the  castle  town,  proclaimed  that  he  also  could  bring 
dead  trees  to  life.  But  when  he  climbed  up  in  a 
dead  plum-tree  and  threw  the  ashes  into  the  air,  not 
a  blossom  appeared;  but  the  ashes  flew  into  the 
prince's  eyes.  Then  the  servants  seized  the  old  man 
and  beat  him  and  threw  him  out  of  the  palace  garden. 

So  the  dog  brought  joy  to  his  friends,  confusion  to 
his  foes,  and  beauty  to  the  whole  country-side. 

THE    STONE-CUTTER1 

FROM  LANG'S  "CBIMSON  FAIRY  BOOK" 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  stone-cutter  who 
went  every  day  to  a  great  rock  in  the  side  of  a  big 
mountain  and  cut  out  slabs  for  gravestones  or  for 
houses.  He  understood  very  well  the  kinds  of  stones 
wanted  for  the  different  purposes,  and  as  he  was  a 
careful  workman  he  had  plenty  of  customers.  For  a 
long  time  he  was  quite  happy  and  contented,  and 
asked  for  nothing  better  than  what  he  had. 

Now  in  the  mountains  dwelt  a  spirit  which  now 
and  then  appeared  to  men,  and  helped  them  in  many 
ways  to  become  rich  and  prosperous.  The  stone- 
cutter, however,  had  never  seen  this  spirit,  and  only 
shook  his  head,  with  an  unbelieving  air,  when  any- 

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STORY    TELLING 

one  spoke  of  it.  But  a  time  was  coming  when  he 
learned  to  change  his  opinion. 

One  day  the  stone-cutter  carried  a  gravestone  to 
the  house  of  a  rich  man,  and  saw  there  all  sorts  of 
beautiful  things,  of  which  he  had  never  even  dreamed. 
Suddenly  his  daily  work  seemed  to  grow  harder  and 
heavier,  and  he  said  to  himself,  "  Oh,  if  I  were  only 
a  rich  man,  and  could  sleep  in  a  bed  with  silken  cur- 
tains and  golden  tassels,  how  happy  I  should  be!  " 

And  a  voice  answered  him,  "  Your  wish  is  heard ; 
a  rich  man  you  shall  be!  " 

At  the  sound  of  the  voice  the  stone-cutter  looked 
round,  but  could  see  nobody.  He  thought  it  was  all 
his  fancy,  and  picked  up  his  tools  and  went  home,  for 
he  did  not  feel  inclined  to  do  any  more  work  that 
day.  But  when  he  reached  the  little  house  where  he 
lived,  he  stood  still  with  amazement;  for  instead  of 
his  wooden  hut  was  a  stately  palace  filled  with  splen- 
did furniture,  and  most  splendid  of  all  was  the  bed, 
in  every  respect  like  the  one  he  had  envied.  He  was 
nearly  beside  himself  with  joy,  and  in  his  new  life 
the  old  one  was  soon  forgotten. 

It  was  now  the  beginning  of  summer,  and  each  day 
the  sun  blazed  more  fiercely.  One  morning  the  heat 
was  so  great  that  the  stone-cutter  could  scarcely 
breathe,  and  he  determined  he  would  stop  at  home 
till  the  evening.  He  was  rather  dull,  for  he  had  never 
learned  how  to  amuse  himself,  and  was  peeping 
through  the  closed  blinds  to  see  what  was  going  on 
in  the  street,  when  a  little  carriage  passed  by,  drawn 
by  servants  dressed  in  blue  and  silver.  In  the  car- 
riage sat  a  prince,  and  over  his  head  a  golden  um- 
brella was  held,  to  protect  him  from  the  sun's  rays. 

"  Oh,  if  I  were  only  a  prince!  "  said  the  stone- 

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MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

cutter  to  himself,  as  the  carriage  vanished  around  the 
corner.  "  Oh,  if  I  were  only  a  prince,  and  could  go 
in  such  a  carriage  and  have  a  golden  umbrella  held 
over  me,  how  happy  I  should  be!  " 

And  the  voice  of  the  mountain  spirit  answered, 
"  Your  wish  is  heard ;  a  prince  you  shall  be." 

And  a  prince  he  was.  Before  his  carriage  rode  one 
company  of  men  and  another  behind  it;  servants 
dressed  in  scarlet  and  gold  bore  him  along;  the  cov- 
eted umbrella  was  held  over  his  head;  everything 
heart  could  desire  was  his.  But  yet  it  was  not 
enough.  He  looked  round  still  for  something  to  wish 
for,  and  when  he  saw  that  in  spite  of  the  water  he 
poured  on  his  grass  the  rays  of  the  sun  scorched  it, 
and  that  in  spite  of  the  umbrella  held  over  his  head 
each  day  his  face  grew  browner  and  browner,  he  cried 
in  his  anger,  "  The  sun  is  mightier  than  I ;  oh,  if  I 
were  only  the  sun!  " 

And  the  mountain  spirit  answered,  "  Your  wish  is 
heard;  the  sun  you  shall  be." 

And  the  sun  he  was,  and  he  felt  himself  proud  in 
his  power.  He  shot  his  beams  above  and  below,  on 
earth  and  in  heaven;  and  he  burnt  up  the  grass  in 
the  fields  and  scorched  the  faces  of  princes  as  well 
as  of  poorer  folk.  But  in  a  short  time  he  began  to 
grow  tired  of  his  might,  for  there  seemed  nothing 
left  for  him  to  do.  Discontent  once  more  filled  his 
soul,  and  when  a  cloud  covered  his  face,  and  hid  the 
earth  from  him,  he  cried  in  his  anger,  "Does  the 
cloud  hold  captive  my  rays,  and  is  it  mightier  than 
I  ?  Oh,  that  I  were  a  cloud  and  mightier  than  any !  " 

And  the  mountain  spirit  answered :  "  Your  wish  is 
heard;  a  cloud  you  shall  be!  " 

And  a  cloud  he  was,  and  lay  between  the  sun  and 

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STORY   TELLING 

the  earth.  He  caught  the  sun's  beams  and  held 
them,  and  to  his  joy  the  earth  grew  green  again 
and  flowers  blossomed.  But  that  was  not  enough  for 
him,  and  for  days  and  weeks  he  poured  forth  rain 
till  the  rivers  overflowed  their  banks  and  the  crops 
of  rice  stood  in  water.  Towns  and  villages  were  de- 
stroyed by  the  power  of  the  rain,  only  the  great 
rock  on  the  mountain  side  remained  unmoved.  The 
cloud  was  amazed  at  the  sight,  and  cried  in  wonder, 
"  Is  the  rock,  then,  mightier  than  I  ?  Oh,  if  I  were 
only  the  rock!  " 

And  the  mountain  spirit  answered :  "  Your  wish 
is  heard;  the  rock  you  shall  be!  " 

And  the  rock  he  was,  and  gloried  in  his  power. 
Proudly  he  stood,  and  neither  the  heat  of  the  sun 
nor  the  force  of  the  rain  could  move  him.  "  This  is 
better  than  all!  "  he  said  to  himself.  But  one  day 
he  heard  a  strange  noise  at  his  feet,  and  when  he 
looked  down  to  see  what  it  could  be,  he  saw  a  stone- 
cutter driving  tools  into  his  surface.  Even  while  he 
looked  a  trembling  feeling  ran  all  through  him,  and 
a  great  block  broke  off  and  fell  upon  the  ground. 
Then  he  cried  in  his  wrath,  "  Is  a  mere  child  of  earth 
mightier  than  a  rock?  Oh,  if  I  were  only  a  man!  " 

And  the  mountain  spirit  answered :  "  Your  wish  is 
heard.  A  man  once  more  you  shall  be!  " 

And  a  man  he  was,  and  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow 
he  toiled  again  at  his  trade  of  stone-cutting.  His 
bed  was  hard  and  his  food  scanty,  but  he  had  learned 
to  be  satisfied  with  it,  and  did  not  long  to  be  some- 
thing or  somebody  else.  And  as  he  never  asked  for 
things  he  had  not  got,  or  desired  to  be  greater  or 
mightier  than  other  people,  he  was  happy  at  last,  and 
heard  the  voice  of  the  mountain  spirit  no  longer. 
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A    PROGRAM    OF    SPRING    STORIES 

WHAT  WAS  HEB  NAME? 

THE  WOODPECKER 

How  THE  ROBIN'S  BREAST  BECAME  RED 

LITTLE  IDA'S  FLOWERS 

OLD  PIPES  AND  THE  DRYAD 

THE  MONK  AND  THE  BIRD 


WHAT   WAS   HER   NAME?1 
FROM  RICHARDS'  "  FIVE  MINUTE  STORIES  " 

"  WAKE  UP  !  "  said  an  old  gentleman,  dressed  in 
brown  and  white,  as  he  gently  shook  the  shoulder  of 
a  young  lady  in  green,  who  was  lying  sound  asleep 
under  the  trees.  "  Wake  up,  ma'am !  it  is  your 
watch  now,  and  time  for  me  to  take  myself  off." 
The  young  lady  stirred  a  very  little,  and  opened  one 
of  her  eyes  the  least  little  bit.  "Who  are  you?" 
she  said  drowsily.  "  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"My  name  is  Winter,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"What  is  yours?" 

"  I  have  not  the  faintest  idea,"  said  the  lady,  clos- 
ing her  eyes  again. 

"Humph!  "  growled  the  old  man,  "a  pretty  per- 
son you  are  to  take  my  place!  Well,  good-day, 
Madam  Sleepyhead,  and  good  luck  to  you!  " 

And  off  he  stumped  over  the  dead  leaves,  which 
crackled  and  rustled  beneath  his  feet.  As  soon  as 
he  was  gone,  the  young  lady  in  green  opened  her 
eyes  in  good  earnest  and  looked  about  her.  "  Madam 
Sleepyhead,  indeed !  "  she  reechoed  indignantly.  "  I 

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STORY    TELLING 

am  sure  that  is  not  my  name,  anyhow.  The  question 
is,  What  is  it?" 

She  looked  about  her  again,  but  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  save  the  bare  branches  of  the  trees,  and  the  dead, 
brown  leaves  and  dry  moss  underfoot. 

"  Trees,  do  you  happen  to  know  what  my  name 
is  ?  "  she  asked.  The  trees  shook  their  heads.  "  No, 
ma'am,"  they  said,  "we  do  not  know;  but  perhaps 
when  the  Wind  comes,  he  will  be  able  to  give  you 
some  information."  The  girl  shivered  a  little,  and 
drew  her  green  mantle  about  her  and  waited. 

By-and-by  the  Wind  came  blustering  along.  He 
caught  the  trees  by  their  branches,  and  shook  them 
in  rough  friendly  greeting. 

"  Well,  boys !  "  he  shouted,  "  Old  Winter  is  gone, 
is  he?  I  wish  you  joy  of  his  departure!  But  where 
is  the  lady  who  was  coming  to  take  his  place?  " 

"  She  is  here,"  answered  the  trees,  "  sitting  on  the 
ground;  but  she  does  not  know  her  own  name,  which 
seems  to  trouble  her." 

"Ho!  ho!"  roared  the  Wind.  "Not  know  her 
own  name?  That  is  news,  indeed!  And  here  she 
has  been  sleeping,  while  all  the  world  has  been  look- 
ing for  her,  and  calling  her,  and  wondering  where 
upon  earth  she  was.  Come,  young  lady,"  he  added, 
addressing  the  girl  with  rough  courtesy,  "  I  will  show 
you  the  way  to  your  dressing-room,  which  has  been 
ready  and  waiting  for  you  for  a  fortnight  and  more.* 

So  he  led  the  way  through  the  forest,  and  the  girl 
followed,  rubbing  her  pretty,  sleepy  eyes,  and  drag- 
ging her  mantle  behind  her. 

Now  it  was  a  very  singular  thing  that  whatever  the 
green  mantle  touched  instantly  turned  green  itself. 
The  brown  moss  put  out  little  tufts  of  emerald  velvet; 

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MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

fresh  shoots  came  pushing  up  from  the  dead,  dry 
grass;  and  even  the  shrubs  and  twigs  against  which 
the  edges  of  the  garment  brushed  broke  out  with  tiny 
swelling  buds,  all  ready  to  open  into  leaves. 

By-and-by  the  Wind  paused  and  pushed  aside  the 
branches,  which  made  a  close  screen  before  him. 

"  Here  is  your  dressing-room,  young  madam,"  he 
said,  with  a  low  bow ;  "  be  pleased  to  enter  it,  and 
you  will  find  all  things  in  readiness.  But  let  me 
entreat  you  to  make  your  toilet  speedily,  for  all  the 
world  is  waiting  for  you." 

Greatly  wondering,  the  young  girl  passed  through 
the  screen  of  branches,  and  found  herself  in  a  most 
marvellous  place. 

The  ground  was  carpeted  with  pine-needles,  soft 
and  thick  and  brown.  The  pine-trees  made  a  dense 
green  wall  around,  and  as  the  wind  passed  softly 
through  the  boughs,  the  air  was  sweet  with  their 
spicy  fragrance.  On  the  ground  were  piled  great 
heaps  of  buds,  all  ready  to  blossom,  —  violets,  anem- 
ones, hepaticas,  blood-root,  —  while  from  under  a  huge 
pile  of  brown  leaves  peeped  the  pale  pink  buds  of  the 
Mayflower. 

The  young  girl  in  the  green  mantle  looked  wonder- 
ingly  at  all  these  things.  "How  strange!  "  she  said. 
"  They  are  all  asleep,  and  waiting  for  someone  to 
waken  them.  Perhaps  if  I  do  it,  they  will  tell  me  in 
return  what  my  name  is." 

She  shook  the  buds  lightly,  and  lo!  every  blossom 
opened  its  eyes  and  raised  its  head,  and  said,  "  Wel- 
come, gracious  lady!  Welcome!  We  have  looked  for 
you  long,  long!  " 

The  young  girl,  in  delight,  took  the  lovely  blos- 
soms, rosy  and  purple,  golden  and  white,  and  twined 

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STORY    TELLING 

them  in  her  fair  locks,  and  hung  them  in  garlands 
round  her  white  neck;  and  still  they  were  opening 
by  thousands,  till  the  pine-tree  hollow  was  filled  with 
them. 

Presently  the  girl  spied  a  beautiful  carved  casket, 
which  had  been  hidden  under  a  pile  of  spicy  leaves, 
and  from  inside  of  it  came  a  rustling  sound,  the 
softest  sound  that  was  ever  heard. 

She  lifted  the  lid,  and  out  flew  a  cloud  of  butter- 
flies. Rainbow-tinted,  softly,  glitteringly,  gayly  flut- 
tering, out  they  flew  by  thousands  and  thousands, 
and  hovered  about  the  maiden's  head;  and  the  soft 
sound  of  their  wings,  which  mortal  ears  are  too  dull 
to  hear,  seemed  to  say,  "  Welcome !  Welcome !  " 

At  the  same  moment  a  great  flock  of  beautiful  birds 
came  flying,  and  lighted  on  the  branches  all  around, 
and  they,  too,  sang,  "Welcome!  Welcome!  " 

The  maiden  clasped  her  hands  and  cried,  "  Why  are 
you  all  so  glad  to  see  me?  I  feel  —  I  know  —  that 
you  are  all  mine,  and  I  am  yours;  but  how  is  it? 
Who  am  I  ?  What  is  my  name  ?  " 

And  buds  and  flowers  and  rainbow-hued  butter- 
flies and  sombre  pine-trees  all  answered  in  joyous 
chorus,  "Spring!  the  beautiful,  the  long  expected! 
Hail  to  the  maiden  Spring!  " 


THE    WOODPECKER 
FROM  AN  OLD  LEGEND 

ONCE  upon  a  time,  longer  than  long  ago,  when  the 
good  St.  Peter  walked  about  the  earth  looking  to  see 
how  men  lived,  he  came  one  day  to  the  door  of  a 
cottage  where  an  old  woman  was  baking  cakes. 

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MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

She  was  neat  and  tidy,  with  a  red  cap  on  her  head, 
a  black  silk  dress,  and  a  white  apron  which  she  tied 
behind  in  a  great  white  bow. 

She  was  baking  spice  cakes,  with  raisins  and  cur- 
rants in  them,  and  they  smelled  wonderfully  good  as 
St.  Peter  stopped  at  the  door  and  asked  for  something 
to  eat. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  have  travelled  far  and  am 
tired  and  hungry.  Will  you  give  me  one  of  the  cakes 
you  are  baking? " 

The  old  woman  looked  at  the  stranger  and  then 
at  her  cakes,  but  she  had  lived  so  long  by  herself 
she  had  grown  selfish,  and  she  thought  to  herself, 
"They  are  all  too  large  to  give  away;  I'll  bake  a 
small  one  for  him." 

So  she  took  a  little  dough  in  the  spoon  and  dropped 
it  into  the  pan,  and  put  the  pan  in  the  oven;  but 
when  she  opened  the  door  and  took  out  the  pan,  the 
cake  was  as  large  as  any  she  had  baked.  She  took 
it  out  and  put  it  on  the  table  with  the  others,  and 
this  time  she  took  just  a  teaspoonful  of  dough  and 
put  it  in  the  pan  to  bake. 

When  she  opened  the  oven  door  and  looked  in,  the 
strangest  thing  had  happened!  The  cake  had  grown 
till  it  was  larger  than  any  of  the  cakes  she  had. 
She  couldn't  part  with  such  a  cake,  so  she  put  it 
on  the  table  with  her  others.  Then  she  took  just  a 
teeny-weeny  bit  of  dough  about  as  big  as  a  pin-head 
and  put  it  in  the  pan  to  bake.  When  she  pulled  out 
the  pan  and  looked  at  the  cake,  it  was  strange  be- 
yond anything  that  ever  happened!  That  teeny- 
weeny  bit  of  dough  had  grown  to  be  a  cake  three 
times  as  large  as  any  she  had. 

When  she   saw  what  had  happened  she  couldn't 


STORY    TELLING 

make  up  her  mind  to  part  with  it,  and  she  put  it 
away  and  took  out  an  old  dry  piece  of  bread  and  gave 
that  to  St.  Peter. 

The  good  St:  Peter  took  the  bread  and  ate  it,  and 
turning  to  the  old  woman  he  said,  "  I  have  no  money 
to  pay  for  what  you  have  given  me,  but  the  first 
thing  you  wish,  when  I  Jm  gone,  that  shall  you  have," 
and  with  that  he  turned  and  walked  away  from  the 
cottage  door. 

He  looked  so  old  and  feeble  as  he  walked  away, 
that  the  old  woman  began  to  be  sorry  she  had  given 
him  nothing  but  the  dry  bread. 

"  I  wish  I  were  a  bird,"  she  said,  "  then  I  'd  fly 
after  him  and  take  him  a  cake,  for  they  do  smell 
good." 

The  words  were  no  sooner  out  of  her  mouth  than 
a  change  took  place.  When  the  old  lady  looked  down 
at  her  hands  they  had  changed  to  wings,  her  feet 
had  become  claws,  and  as  she  glanced  at  herself  in 
the  glass  she  saw  herself  a  bird.  She  still  had  her 
red  cap  on  her  head,  her  white  apron  with  the  bow 
behind,  and  the  black  dress,  but  bird  she  was.  Then 
along  came  the  wind,  and  lifted  her  up  as  she  stood 
in  the  open  door,  and  carried  her  away  over  the  tops 
of  the  houses  and  out  to  the  woods,  and  there  dropped 
her  to  the  branch  of  a  tree. 

Any  one  can  see  her  climbing  up  and  down  the  trees 
looking  for  something  to  eat;  and  when  they  see  her, 
people  say,  "Oh,  there's  a  red-headed  woodpecker!  " 
But  we  know  it's  only  the  little  old  woman  always 
looking  for  something  to  eat. 


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MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

HOW  THE  ROBIN'S  BREAST  BECAME  RED  1 
FROM  COOKE'S  "  NATURE  MYTHS  AND  STORIES  " 

LONG  ago  in  the  far  North,  where  it  is  very  cold, 
there  was  only  one  fire. 

A  hunter  and  his  little  son  took  care  of  this  fire 
and  kept  it  burning  day  and  night.  They  knew  that 
if  the  fire  went  out  the  people  would  freeze  and  the 
white  bear  would  have  the  Northland  all  to  himself. 
One  day  the  hunter  became  ill  and  his  son  had  the 
work  to  do. 

For  many  days  and  nights  he  bravely  took  care  of 
his  father  and  kept  the  fire  burning. 

The  white  bear  was  always  hiding  near,  watching 
the  fire.  He  longed  to  put  it  out,  but  he  did  not 
dare  for  he  feared  the  hunter's  arrows. 

When  he  saw  how  tired  and  sleepy  the  little  boy 
was,  he  came  closer  to  the  fire  and  laughed  to  him- 
self. 

One  night  the  poor  boy  could  endure  the  fatigue 
no  longer,  and  fell  fast  asleep. 

The  white  bear  ran  as  fast  as  he  could  and  jumped 
upon  the  fire  with  his  wet  feet,  and  rolled  upon  it. 
At  last,  he  thought  it  was  all  out  and  went  happily 
away  to  his  cave. 

A  gray  robin  was  flying  near  and  saw  what  the 
white  bear  was  doing. 

She  waited  until  the  bear  went  away.  Then  she 
flew  down  and  searched  with  her  sharp  little  eyes 
until  she  found  a  tiny  live  coal.  This  she  fanned 
patiently  with  her  wings  for  a  long  time. 

Her   little  breast  was   scorched   red,   but   she   did 
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123 


STORY    TELLING 

not  stop  until  a  fine  red  flame  blazed  up  from  the 
ashes. 

Then  she  flew  away  to  every  hut  in  the  North- 
land. 

Wherever  she  touched  the  ground  a  fire  began  to 
burn. 

Soon  instead  of  one  little  fire  the  whole  north 
country  was  lighted  up. 

The  white  bear  went  further  back  into  his  cave  in 
the  iceberg  and  growled  terribly. 

He  knew  that  there  was  now  no  hope  that  he 
would  ever  have  the  Northland  all  to  himself. 

This  is  the  reason  that  the  people  in  the  north 
country  love  the  robin,  and  are  never  tired  of  tell- 
ing their  children  how  its  breast  became  red. 


LITTLE    IDA'S    FLOWERS* 
FROM  ANDERSEN'S  "  FAIRY  TALES  " 

"  MY  poor  flowers  are  quite  dead !  "  said  little  Ida. 
"  They  were  so  beautiful  last  night,  and  now  all  the 
leaves  are  hanging  down  quite  faded!  Why  are  they 
doing  that  ? "  she  asked  the  student,  who  sat  on  the 
sofa.  She  was  very  fond  of  him;  he  could  tell  the 
most  beautiful  stories  and  cut  out  the  funniest 
pictures,  such  as  hearts  with  little  damsels  who 
danced,  and  flowers,  and  large  castles  with  doors 
that  could  be  opened;  he  was  indeed  a  merry 
student ! 

"Why  do  the  flowers  look  so  poorly  to-day?"  she 
asked  again,  and  showed  him  a  whole  bouquet  which 
was  entirely  faded. 

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124 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

"  Don't  you  know  what  's  the  matter  with  them  ?  " 
said  the  student.  "  The  flowers  were  at  a  ball  last 
night,  and  that 's  why  they  hang  their  heads !  " 

"  But  flowers  cannot  dance !  "  said  little  Ida. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  student,  "  when  it  is  dark  and 
we  are  asleep,  they  run  about  quite  merrily;  al- 
most every  night  they  hold  a  ball!  " 

"Can't  children  go  to  these  balls?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  student,  "  as  tiny  daisies  and  lilies 
of  the  valley." 

"Where  do  the  prettiest  flowers  dance?"  asked 
little  Ida. 

"  Have  n't  you  often  been  outside  the  gate  of  the 
great  palace,  where  the  king  lives  in  summer,  and 
where  there  is  a  beautiful  garden  with  many  flowers? 
You  have  seen  the  swans,  which  swim  toward  you 
when  you  want  to  give  them  bread  crumbs.  They 
hold  real  balls  out  there,  I  can  tell  you!  " 

"  I  was  there  in  the  garden,  yesterday,  with  my 
mother,"  said  Ida;  "but  all  the  leaves  had  fallen 
off  the  trees,  and  there  were  no  flowers  at  all! 
Where  are  they?  Last  summer  I  saw  so  many!  " 

"  They  are  in  the  palace,"  said  the  student.  "  You 
must  know  that  as  soon  as  ever  the  king  and  all  the 
court  move  into  the  town,  the  flowers  at  once  run 
away  from  the  garden  up  to  the  palace  and  make 
merry.  You  ought  to  see  that!  Two  most  beautiful 
roses  take  a  seat  on  the  throne,  and  then  they  are 
king  and  queen.  All  the  red  cockscombs  range 
themselves  by  their  side  and  stand  bowing;  they  are 
the  chamberlains.  Then  all  sorts  df  lovely  flowers 
arrive,  and  then  they  have  a  great  ball;  the  blue 
violets  represent  little  midshipmen,  and  dance  with 
hyacinths  and  crocuses,  whom  they  call  young  ladies. 


STORY    TELLING 

The  tulips  and  the  large  tiger-lilies  are  the  old 
ladies;  they  see  that  the  dancing  is  done  well  and 
that  everything  is  properly  conducted!  " 

"  But,"  asked  little  Ida,  "  does  n't  any  one  do  any- 
thing to  the  flowers  for  dancing  in  the  king's 
palace?" 

"  There  is  no  one  who  really  knows  anything  about 
that,"  said  the  student.  "  Sometimes  the  old  keeper 
who  looks  after  the  palace  out  there,  comes  round  at 
night;  but  he  has  a  large  bunch  of  keys,  and  as  soon 
as  the  flowers  hear  the  keys  rattle,  they  are  quite 
quiet  and  hide  themselves  behind  the  long  curtains 
and  peep  out. 

" '  I  can  smell  that  there  are  some  flowers  in 
here!  J  says  the  keeper,  but  he  cannot  see  them." 

"  That 's  great  fun,"  said  little  Ida,  clapping  her 
hands.  "  But  should  n't  I  be  able  to  see  the  flowers 
either?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  student,  u  just  remember  when  you 
go  there  again  to  peep  in  through  the  window,  and 
you  are  sure  to  see  them.  I  did  so  to-day,  and  there 
lay  a  long  yellow  daffodil  on  the  sofa,  stretching 
herself  and  imagining  herself  to  be  one  of  the  ladies 
of  the  court!  " 

"  Can  the  flowers  in  the  Botanical  Gardens  also 
go  there  ?  Can  they  go  such  a  long  way  ? " 

"  Yes,  of  course !  "  said  the  student,  "  for  they 
can  fly  if  they  like.  Haven't  you  seen  the  beautiful 
butterflies,  red,  yellow,  and  white  ?  They  almost  look 
like  flowers,  and  that  is  what  they  once  were.  They 
have  flown  from  the  stalks  right  up  into  the  air, 
flapping  with  their  leaves  as  if  they  were  little  wings. 
And  as  they  behaved  well,  they  were  allowed  to  fly 
about  in  the  daytime  also,  and  were  not  obliged  ;to 

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MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

remain  at  home  and  sit  still  on  the  stalk,  and  so 
the  leaves  became  real  wings  at  last.  You  have  seen 
that  yourself!  It  may  be,  however,  that  the  flowers 
in  the  Botanical  Gardens  have  never  been  to  the 
king's  palace,  and  do  not  know  that  they  have  such 
a  merry  time  at  night  out  there.  I  will  therefore 
tell  you  something  which  will  greatly  surprise  the 
botanical  professor  who  lives  next  door  —  you  know 
him,  don't  you?  When  you  go  into  his  garden,  you 
must  tell  one  of  the  flowers  that  there  is  going  to  be 
a  great  ball  at  the  palace,  and  he  again  will  tell  it 
to  all  the  others,  and  then  they  will  all  fly  off. 
When  the  professor  comes  into  the  garden  there  will 
not  be  a  single  flower  left,  and  he  will  not  be  able 
to  make  out  what  has  become  of  them." 

"  But  how  can  the  flowers  tell  it  to  the  others  ? 
The  flowers  cannot  talk!  " 

"  That  's  true !  "  answered  the  student,  "  but  they 
make  signs  to  one  another.  Haven't  you  seen  when 
the  wind  blows  a  little  that  the  flowers  nod  to  one 
another  and  move  all  their  green  leaves?  They  un- 
derstand it  as  plainly  as  if  they  spoke!  " 

"  Can  the  professor  understand  their  language  ?  " 
asked  Ida. 

"  Yes,  of  course !  He  came  down  into  his  garden 
one  morning  and  saw  a  big  nettle  making  signs  with 
its  leaves  to  a  beautiful  red  carnation;  it  said, 
4  You  are  so  lovely,  and  I  am  so  fond  of  you !  '  The 
professor  does  not  like  such  things  going  on,  so  he 
gave  the  nettle  a  slap  across  its  leaves,  for  they  are 
its  fingers,  you  know;  but  he  stung  himself,  and 
since  then  he  never  dares  to  touch  a  nettle." 

"  How  funny !  "  said  little  Ida  with  a  laugh. 

"What  ideas  to  put  into  the  child's  head!"  re- 

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STORY    TELLING 

marked  the  tiresome  counsellor,  who  had  come  on 
a  visit  and  was  sitting  on  the  sofa.  He  did  not  like 
the  student,  and  was  always  grumbling  when  he  saw 
him  cutting  out  the  funny,  comic  pictures;  some- 
times a  man  hanging  on  a  gallows  and  holding  a 
heart  in  his  hand,  —  for  he  had  been  a  destroyer  of 
hearts,  —  sometimes  an  old  witch  riding  on  a  broom 
and  carrying  her  husband  on  her  nose.  The  coun- 
sellor did  not  like  that,  and  so  he  would  say  as  he 
had  done  just  now :  "  What  ideas  to  put  into  the 
child's  head!  It  is  pure  imagination!  " 

But  it  seemed  to  little  Ida  that  what  the  student 
had  told  her  about  her  flowers  was  very  amusing,  and 
she  thought  a  great  deal  about  it.  The  flowers  hung 
their  heads,  because  they  were  tired  of  dancing  all 
the  night;  they  must  be  poorly.  So  she  carried 
them  with  her  to  a  nice  little  table  where  she  kept 
all  her  toys,  and  the  whole  drawer  was  full  of  pretty 
things.  In  the  dolFs  bed  lay  her  doll  Sophia,  asleep, 
but  little  Ida  said  to  her :  "  You  must  really  get  up, 
Sophia,  and  be  content  with  lying  in  the  drawer  to- 
night; the  poor  flowers  are  paorly  and  they  must 
lie  in  your  bed;  perhaps  they  will  then  get  well 
again!  "  And  so  she  took  the  doll,  who  looked  very 
cross  but  did  not  say  a  single  word,  because  she  was 
angry  at  not  being  allowed  to  keep  her  bed. 

Ida  put  the  flowers  in  the  doll's  bed,  pulled  the 
little  quilt  over  them,  and  said  they  must  lie  quiet 
and  she  would  make  tea  for  them,  so  that  they  might 
get  well  again  and  be  able  to  get  up  in  the  morning. 
She  then  drew  the  curtains  closely  round  the  little 
bed,  so  that  the  sun  should  not  shine  in  their  eyes. 

The  whole  evening  she  could  not  help  thinking 
about  what  the  student  had  told  her,  and  when  she 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

had  to  go  to  bed  herself,  she  felt  she  must  first  go 
behind  the  curtains  which  hung  before  the  windows 
where  her  mother's  lovely  flowers  were  standing,  both 
hyacinths  and  tulips,  and  then  she  whispered  quite 
softly,  "  I  know  you  are  going  to  a  ball  to-night !  " 
but  the  flowers  appeared  as  if  they  understood 
nothing  and  did  not  move  a  leaf,  but  little  Ida 
knew  —  what  she  knew. 

When  she  had  got  into  bed  she  lay  for  a  long  time 
thinking  how  nice  it  would  be  to  see  the  beautiful 
flowers  dance  at  the  king's  palace. 

"  I  wonder  if  my  flowers  really  have  been  there !  " 
And  so  she  fell  asleep.  In  the  course  of  the  night 
she  awoke;  she  had  been  dreaming  about  the  flowers 
and  the  student,  whom  the  counsellor  used  to  scold  for 
putting  silly  ideas  into  her  head.  It  was  quite 
quiet  in  the  bedroom  where  Ida  was  lying;  the 
night-lamp  was  burning  on  the  table  and  her  father 
and  mother  were  asleep. 

"  I  wonder  if  my  flowers  are  now  lying  in  Sophia's 
bed,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  how  I  should  like  to 
know!  "  She  raised  herself  a  little  and  looked  to- 
ward the  door,  which  was  half  open;  in  there  lay 
the  flowers  and  her  toys.  She  listened,  and  it  ap- 
peared to  her  as  if  she  heard  someone  playing  the 
piano  in  the  next  room,  very  softly,  and  more  beau- 
tifully than  she  had  ever  heard  it  before. 

"  I  expect  all  my  flowers  are  now  dancing  in 
there!  "  she  said,  "how  I  should  like  to  see  them!  " 
But  she  dared  not  get  up  for  fear  of  waking  her 
father  and  mother.  "  If  they  would  only  come  in 
here,"  she  said;  but  the  flowers  did  not  come,  and 
the  music  continued  to  play  so  beautifully  that  she 
could  not  resist  it  any  longer, —  it  was  too  en- 


STORY    TELLING 

trancing, —  so  she  crept  out  of  her  little  bed  and 
went  quite  softly  to  the  door  and  looked  into  the 
room.  Oh,  what  an  amusing  scene  met  her  sight! 

There  was  no  night-lamp  in  there,  but  still  it  was 
quite  light;  the  moon  was  shining  through  the  win- 
dow right  into  the  middle  of  the  room!  It  was  al- 
most as  light  as  day.  All  the  hyacinths  and  tulips 
were  standing  in  two  long  rows  along  the  floor; 
there  were  none  at  all  in  the  window,  where  only 
empty  pots  were  to  be  seen.  Down  on  the  floor  the 
flowers  were  dancing  most  gracefully  round  and 
round,  doing  the  chain  quite  correctly  and  holding  each 
other  by  their  long  green  leaves  as  they  swung  round. 
And  over  at  the  piano  sat  a  large  yellow  lily  whom 
little  Ida  was  sure  she  had  seen  last  summer,  for 
she  remembered  so  well  that  the  student  had  said: 
"How  she  is  like  Miss  Lina!"  but  they  all  laughed 
at  him  then.  But  now  Ida  really  thought  that  the 
long  yellow  flower  was  like  Miss  Lina,  and  had  just 
the  same  manners  when  playing,  putting  her  large 
yellow  head  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other, 
and  nodding  it  to  keep  time  with  the  music.  No 
one  noticed  little  Ida.  She  then  saw  a  large  blue 
crocus  jump  right  into  the  middle  of  the  table, 
where  the  toys  were  standing,  and  walk  straight  up 
to  the  doll's  bed  and  pull  aside  the  curtains;  there 
lay  the  sick  flowers,  but  they  got  up  directly  and 
nodded  their  heads  to  the  others  to  show  that  they 
also  wanted  to  join  in  the  dance.  The  old  incense- 
burner  with  the  broken  under-lip  stood  up  and  bowed 
to  the  pretty  flowers;  they  did  not  appear  at  all  ill, 
they  jumped  down  among  the  others  and  looked  so 
pleased ! 

Just  then  it  seemed  as  if  something  fell  down  from 

130 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

the  table.  Ida  looked  that  way;  it  was  the  Shrove- 
tide rod,  which  had  jumped  down;  it  thought  it  also 
belonged  to  the  flowers.  It  was  really  very  pretty ; 
at  the  top  sat  a  little  wax  doll,  which  had  just  the 
same  kind  of  broad  hat  on  her  head  as  the  counsellor 
wore;  the  Shrovetide  rod  and  its  three  red  wooden 
legs  jumped  right  into  the  midst  of  the  flowers  and 
stamped  quite  loudly;  it  was  dancing  the  mazurka, 
and  this  the  other  flowers  could  not  dance  because 
they  were  too  light  and  could  not  stamp. 

All  at  once  the  wax  doll  on  the  rod  began  to  grow 
bigger  and  bigger,  whirled  round  above  the  paper 
flowers,  and  called  out  quite  loudly:  "What  ideas 
to  put  into  the  child's  head!  It  is  pure  imagina- 
tion! "  And  then  the  wax  doll  looked  exactly  like 
the  counsellor  with  the  broad  hat,  and  was  just  as 
yellow  and  cross  as  he,  but  the  paper  flowers  struck 
him  across  his  thin  legs;  and  he  shrank  and  shrank 
till  he  became  a  little  wee  bit  of  a  wax  doll  again.  He 
looked  so  very  funny,  little  Ida  could  not  help  laugh- 
ing. The  Shrovetide  rod  went  on  dancing  and  the 
counsellor  had  to  dance  as  well ;  there  was  no  help  for 
it,  he  had  to  dance  whether  he  made  himself  big  and 
long,  or  became  the  little  yellow  wax  doll  with  the 
big  black  hat.  Then  the  other  flowers  interceded  for 
him,  especially  those  that  had  been  in  the  doll's 
bed,  and  at  last  the  Shrovetide  rod  stopped  dancing. 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  loud  knocking  in 
the  drawer  where  Ida's  doll,  Sophia,  lay  among  the 
other  toys;  the  incense-burner  ran  to  the  edge  of  the 
table,  laid  himself  flat  down  upon  his  stomach  and 
managed  to  get  the  drawer  pulled  out  a  little; 
whereupon  Sophia  sat  up  and  looked  quite  sur- 
prised. 

131 


STORY    TELLING 

"There's  a  ball  here!"  she  said;  "why  hasn't 
anyone  told  me  ?  " 

"Will  you  dance  with  me?"  asked  the  incense- 
burner. 

"  You  are  a  nice  one  to  dance  with,  I'm  sure !  " 
she  said,  and  turned  her  back  upon  him.  So  she 
sat  down  on  the  drawer  and  thought  that  one  of  the 
flowers  would  be  sure  to  come  and  engage  her,  but 
no  one  came;  then  she  coughed,  hem!  hem!  hem! 
but  no  one  came  for  all  that.  The  incense-burner 
danced  all  by  himself,  and  he  didn't  do  it  at  all 
badly! 

As  none  of  the  flowers  seemed  to  notice  Sophia, 
she  let  herself  fall  with  a  thump  from  the  drawer 
right  down  on  the  floor,  and  caused  quite  a  com- 
motion; all  the  flowers  came  running  round  her 
asking  if  she  had  hurt  herself,  and  they  were  all  so 
nice  to  her,  especially  the  flowers  that  had  been  lying 
in  her  bed.  But  she  had  not  hurt  herself  at  all,  and 
all  Ida's  flowers  thanked  her  for  her  beautiful  bed, 
and  said  they  loved  her  very  much;  they  led  her 
into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  where  the  moon  was 
shining,  and  danced  with  her,  while  the  other  flowers 
formed  a  circle  round  them.  Sophia  was  now  very 
pleased  and  said  they  might  keep  her  bed;  she  did 
not  at  all  mind  lying  in  the  drawer. 

But  the  flowers  said :  "  We  are  very  much  obliged 
to  you,  but  we  cannot  live  very  long!  To-morrow 
we  shall  be  quite  dead,  but  tell  little  Ida  she  must 
bury  us  in  the  garden  where  the  canary  bird  is 
lying;  then  we  shall  grow  up  again  in  the  summer 
and  be  prettier  than  ever!  " 

"  No,  you  must  not  die !  "  said  Sophia,  and  then 
she  kissed  the  flowers. 

132 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

Just  then  the  door  of  the  next  room  flew  open, 
and  a  lot  of  beautiful  flowers  came  dancing  in.  Ida 
could  not  make  out  where  they  came  from;  they 
must  be  all  the  flowers  from  the  king's  palace. 
First  of  all  came  two  lovely  roses,  with  their  little 
golden  crowns;  they  were  the  king  and  the  queen. 
Then  came  the  most  beautiful  stocks  and  carnations, 
bowing  on  all  sides;  they  had  brought  music  with 
them.  Large  poppies  and  peonies  were  blowing  pea- 
shells  till  they  were  quite  red  in  the  face.  The 
bluebells  and  the  little  white  snowdrops  tinkled  as 
if  they  had  bells  on.  The  music  was  very  funny! 
Then  there  came  many  other  flowers,  and  they  all 
danced;  the  blue  violets  and  the  red  heartseases, 
the  daisies  and  the  lilies  of  the  valley.  And  all  the 
flowers  kissed  one  another;  it  was  such  a  pretty 
sight ! 

At  last  the  flowers  said  good-night  to  each  other, 
and  little  Ida  stole  back  to  her  bed,  where  she 
dreamed  of  all  that  she  had  seen. 

When  she  got  up  next  morning,  she  went  at  once 
to  the  little  table  to  see  if  the  flowers  were  still 
there.  She  pulled  aside  the  curtains  of  the  little 
bed,  and  there  they  all  lay,  but  they  were  quite 
faded,  more  so  than  they  were  the  day  before.  Sophia 
lay  in  the  drawer,  where  she  had  put  her;  she  looked 
very  sleepy. 

"Can  you  remember  what  you  were  to  tell  me?" 
said  little  Ida,  but  Sophia  looked  very  stupid,  and 
did  not  say  a  single  word. 

"You  are  not  at  all  kind,"  said  Ida;  "and  yet 
they  all  danced  with  you."  So  she  took  a  little  card- 
board box,  on  which  were  painted  beautiful  birds; 
she  opened  it  and  put  the  dead  flowers  into  it. 

133 


STORY    TELLING 

"That  will  make  a  pretty  coffin  for  you!  "  she 
said,  "  and  when  my  Norwegian  cousins  come  here, 
they  shall  help  me  to  bury  you  in  the  garden,  so 
that  you  can  grow  up  next  summer  and  be  prettier 
than  ever!  " 

Her  Norwegian  cousins  were  two  fine  boys,  whose 
names  were  Jonas  and  Adolph;  their  father  had 
given  them  each  a  new  cross-bow,  and  they  had 
brought  these  with  them  to  show  Ida.  She  told 
them  about  the  poor  flowers  that  were  dead,  and 
they  were  allowed  to  bury  them.  Both  the  boys 
went  first  with  their  cross-bows  on  their  shoulders, 
and  little  Ida  followed  behind  with  the  dead  flowers 
in  the  beautiful  box.  A  little  grave  was  dug  in 
the  garden.  Ida  first  kissed  the  flowers  and  then 
laid  them  in  the  box  in  the  grave,  while  Adolph  and 
Jonas  shot  with  their  cross-bows  over  it,  for  they 
had  neither  guns  nor  cannons. 

OLD    PIPES   AND    THE    DRYAD1 
FROM  STOCKTON'S  "  THE  BEE-MAN  OF  OBN  " 

[A  MOUNTAIN  brook  ran  through  a  little  village. 
Over  the  brook  there  was  a  narrow  bridge,  and  from 
the  bridge  a  footpath  led  out  from  the  village  and 
up  the  hill-side,  to  the  cottage  of  Old  Pipes  and  his 
mother.] 

For  many,  many  years  Old  Pipes  had  been  em- 
ployed by  the  villagers  to  pipe  the  cattle  down  from 
the  hills.  [Every  afternoon,  an  hour  before  sunset, 
he  would  sit  on  a  rock  in  front  of  his  cottage  and 
play  on  his  pipes.  Then  all  the  flocks  and  herds 

1  FIOM  "  The  Bee-Man  of  Orn."  Copyright,  1887,  by  CHARLES 
SCEIBNEE'S  SONS.  Used  by  permission. 

134 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

that  were  grazing  on  the  mountains  would  hear 
him,  wherever  they  might  happen  to  be,  and  would 
come  down  to  the  village  —  the  cows  by  the  easiest 
paths,  the  sheep  by  those  not  quite  so  easy,  and  the 
goats  by  the  steep  and  rocky  ways  that  were  hardest 
of  all.] 

But  now,  for  a  year  or  more,  Old  Pipes  had  not 
piped  the  cattle  home.  It  is  true  that  every  after- 
noon he  sat  upon  the  rock  and  played  upon  his 
pipes;  but  the  cattle  did  not  hear  him.  He  had 
grown  old,  and  his  breath  was  feeble.  The  echoes 
of  his  cheerful  notes,  which  used  to  come  from  the 
rocky  hill  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  were  heard 
no  more;  and  twenty  yards  from  Old  Pipes  one 
could  scarcely  tell  what  tune  he  was  playing.  He 
had  become  somewhat  deaf,  and  did  not  know  that 
the  sound  of  his  pipes  was  so  thin  and  weak,  and 
that  the  cattle  did  not  hear  him.  The  cows,  the 
sheep,  and  the  goats  came  down  every  afternoon  as 
before;  but  this  was  because  two  boys  and  a  girl 
were  sent  up  after  them.  The  villagers  did  not  wish 
the  good  old  man  to  know  that  his  piping  was  no 
longer  of  any  use;  so  they  paid  him  his  little  salary 
every  month,  and  said  nothing  about  the  two  boys 
and  the  girl. 

[Old  Pipes's  mother  was,  of  course,  a  great  deal 
older  than  he  was,  and  was  as  deaf  as  a  gate  —  posts, 
latch,  hinges,  and  all  —  and  she  never  knew  that  the 
sound  of  her  son's  pipe  did  not  spread  over  all  the 
mountain-side  and  echo  back  strong  and  clear  from 
the  opposite  hills.  She  was  very  fond  of  Old  Pipes, 
and  proud  of  his  piping;  and  as  he  was  so  much 
younger  than  she  was,  she  never  thought  of  him  as 
being  very  old.  She  cooked  for  him,  and  made  his 
135 


STORY    TELLING 

bed,  and  mended  his  clothes;  and  they  lived  very 
comfortably  on  his  little  salary.] 

One  afternoon,  at  the  end  of  the  month,  when 
Old  Pipes  had  finished  his  piping,  he  took  his  stout 
staff  and  went  down  the  hill  to  the  village  to  re- 
ceive the  money  for  his  month's  work.  The  path 
seemed  a  great  deal  steeper  and  more  difficult  than 
it  used  to  be;  [and  Old  Pipes  thought  that  it  must 
have  been  washed  by  the  rains  and  greatly  damaged. 
He  remembered  it  as  a  path  that  was  quite  easy  to 
traverse  either  up  or  down.]  But  Old  Pipes  had 
been  a  very  active  man,  and  as  his  mother  was  so 
much  older  than  he  was,  he  never  thought  of  him- 
self as  aged  and  infirm. 

When  the  Chief  Villager  had  paid  him,  [and  he 
had  talked  a  little  with  some  of  his  friends,]  Old 
Pipes  started  to  go  home.  But  when  he  had  [crossed 
the  bridge  over  the  brook,  and]  gone  a  short  distance 
up  the  hil-side,  he  became  very  tired,  and  sat  down 
upon  a  stone.  He  had  not  been  sitting  there  half 
a  minute,  when  along  came  two  boys  and  a  girl. 

"  Children,"  said  Old  Pipes,  "  I  'm  very  tired  to-night, 
and  I  don't  believe  I  can  climb  up  this  steep  path  to  my 
home.  I  think  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  help  me." 

"  We  will  do  that,"  said  the  boys  and  the  girl, 
quite  cheerfully;  [and  one  boy  took  him  by  the 
right  hand  and  the  other  by  the  left,  while  the  girl 
pushed  him  in  the  back.]  In  this  way  he  went  up 
the  hill  quite  easily,  and  soon  reached  his  cottage 
door.  Old  Pipes  gave  each  of  the  three  children  a 
copper  coin,  and  then  they  sat  down  for  a  few 
minutes'  rest  before  starting  back  to  the  village. 

"I'm  sorry  that  I  tired  you  so  much,"  said  Old 
Pipes. 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

"Oh,  that  would  not  have  tired  us,"  said  one  of 
the  boys,  "  if  we  had  not  been  so  far  to-day  after 
the  cows,  and  the  sheep,  and  the  goats.  They  ram- 
bled high  up  on  the  mountain,  and  we  never  before 
had  such  a  time  in  finding  them." 

"Had  to  go  after  the  cows,  the  sheep,  and  the 
goats !  "  exclaimed  Old  Pipes.  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  that?  " 

The  girl,  who  stood  behind  the  old  man,  shook 
her  head,  put  her  hand  on  her  mouth,  and  made  all 
sorts  of  signs  to  the  boy  to  stop  talking  on  this 
subject;  but  he  did  not  notice  her,  and  promptly 
answered  Old  Pipes. 

"  Why,  you  see,  good  sir,"  said  he,  "  that  as  the 
cattle  can't  hear  your  pipes  now,  somebody  has  to 
go  after  them  every  evening  to  drive  them  down  from 
the  mountain,  and  the  Chief  Villager  has  hired  us 
three  to  do  it.  [Generally  it  is  not  very  hard  work, 
but  to-night  the  cattle  had  wandered  far."] 

"  How  long  have  you  been  doing  this  ? "  asked  the 
old  man. 

[The  girl  shook  her  head  and  clapped  her  hand 
on  her  mouth  as  before,  but  the  boy  went  on.] 

"  I  think  it  is  about  a  year  now,"  he  said,  "  since 
the  people  first  felt  sure  that  the  cattle  could  not 
hear  your  pipes ;  [and  from  that  time  we  've  been 
driving  them  down.  But  we  are  rested  now,  and 
will  go  home.]  Good-night,  sir." 

The  three  children  then  went  down  the  hill,  [the 
girl  scolding  the  boy  all  the  way  home.]  Old  Pipes 
[stood  silent  a  few  moments,  and  then  he]  went  into 
his  cottage. 

"Mother,"  he  shouted,  "did  you  hear  what  those 
children  said?" 

137 


STORY    TELLING 

"Children!"  exclaimed  the  old  woman;  "I  did 
not  hear  them.  I  did  not  know  there  were  any 
children  here." 

Then  Old  Pipes  told  his  mother  —  shouting  very 
loudly  to  make  her  hear  [how  the  two  boys  and 
the  girl  had  helped  him  up  the  hill,  and  what  he 
had  heard  about  his  piping  and  the  cattle. 

"  They  can't  hear  you  ?  "  cried  his  mother.  "  Why, 
what's  the  matter  with  the  cattle  ?  " 

"Ah,  me!"  said  Old  Pipes;  "I  don't  believe 
there 's  anything  the  matter  with  {he  cattle.  It 
must  be  with  me  and  my  pipes  that  there  is  some- 
thing the  matter.  But  one  thing  is  certain;  if  I 
do  not  earn  the  wages  the  Chief  Villager  pays  me, 
I  shall  not  take  them.  I  shall  go  straight  down  to  the 
village  and  give  back  the  money  I  received  to-day."] 

"  Nonsense !  "  cried  his  mother.  "  I'm  sure  you  've 
piped  as  well  as  you  could,  and  no  more  can  be 
expected.  And  what  are  we  to  do  without  the 
money  ? " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Old  Pipes;  "but  I'm  going 
down  to  the  village  to  pay  it  back." 

[The  sun  had  now  set;  but  the  moon  was  shining 
very  brightly  on  the  hill-side,  and  Old  Pipes  could 
see  his  way  very  well.  He  did  not  take  the  same 
path  by  which  he  had  gone  before,  but  followed  an- 
other, which  led  among  the  trees  upon  the  hill-side, 
and,  though  longer,  was  not  so  steep.] 

When  he  had  gone  about  half-way,  the  old  man 
sat  down  to  rest,  leaning  his  back  against  a  great 
oak-tree.  As  he  did  so,  he  heard  a  sound  like 
knocking  inside  the  tree,  and  then  a  voice  said: 

"  Let  me  out !    let  me  out !  " 

Old  Pipes  instantly  forgot  that  he  was  tired,  and 

138 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

eprang  to  his  feet.  "This  must  be  a  Dryad  tree!  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  If  it  is,  I  'II  let  her  out." 

Old  Pipes  had  never,  to  his  knowledge,  seen  a 
Dryad  tree,  but  he  knew  there  were  such  trees  on 
the  hill-sides  and  the  mountains,  and  that  Dryads 
lived  in  them.  He  knew,  too,  that  in  the  summer- 
time, on  those  days  when  the  moon  rose  before  the 
sun  went  down,  a  Dryad  could  come  out  of  her  tree 
if  any  one  could  find  the  key  which  locked  her  in, 
and  turn  it.  Old  Pipes  closely  examined  the  trunk 
of  the  tree,  which  stood  in  the  full  moonlight.  "  If 
I  see  that  key,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  surely  turn  it." 
Before  long  he  found  a  piece  of  bark  standing  out 
from  the  tree,  which  looked  to  him  very  much  like 
the  handle  of  a  key.  He  took  hold  of  it,  and  found 
he  could  turn  it  quite  around.  As  he  did  so,  a  large 
part  of  the  side  of  the  tree  was  pushed  open,  and  a 
beautiful  Dryad  stepped  quickly  out. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  motionless,  gazing  on  the 
scene  before  her  [the  tranquil  valley,  the  hills, 
the  forest,  and  the  mountain- side,  all  lying  in  the 
soft  clear  light  of  the  moon.]  "  Oh,  lovely !  lovely !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  How  long  it  is  since  I  have  seen 
anything  like  this!  "  And  then,  turning  to  Old 
Pipes,  she  said :  "  How  good  of  you  to  let  me  out ! 
I  am  so  happy,  and  so  thankful,  that  I  must  kiss 
you,  you  dear  old  man!  "  And  she  [threw  her  arms 
around  the  neck  of  Old  Pipes,  and]  kissed  him  on 
both  cheeks. 

"  You  don't  know,"  she  then  went  on  to  say,  "  how 
doleful  it  is  to  be  shut  up  so  long  in  a  tree.  I 
don't  mind  it  in  the  winter,  for  then  I  am  glad  to 
be  sheltered,  but  in  summer  it  is  a  rueful  thing  not 
to  be  able  to  see  all  the  beauties  of  the  world.  And 

139 


STORY    TELLING 

it's  ever  so  long  since  I've  been  let  out.  People  so 
seldom  come  this  way;  and  when  they  do  come  at 
the  right  time,  they  either  don't  hear  me,  or  they 
are  frightened  and  run  away.  But  you,  you  dear 
old  man,  you  were  not  frightened,  and  you  looked 
and  looked  for  the  key,  and  you  let  me  out;  [and 
now  I  shall  not  have  to  go  back  till  winter  has  come, 
and  the  air  grows  cold.  Oh,  it  is  glorious!]  What 
can  I  do  for  you,  to  show  you  how  grateful  I  am  ? " 

"I  am  very  glad,"  said  Old  Pipes,  "that  I  let 
you  out,  since  I  see  that  it  makes  you  so  happy; 
[but  I  must  admit  that  I  tried  to  find  the  key  be- 
cause I  had  a  great  desire  to  see  a  Dryad.]  But, 
if  you  wish  to  do  something  for  me,  you  can,  if  you 
happen  to  be  going  down  toward  the  village." 

["To  the  village!"  exclaimed  the  Dryad.  "I 
will  go  anywhere  for  you,  my  kind  old  benefactor." 

"  Well,  then/'  said  Old  Pipes,]  "  I  wish  you  would 
take  this  little  bag  of  money  to  the  Chief  Villager 
and  tell  him  that  Old  Pipes  cannot  receive  pay  for 
the  services  which  he  does  not  perform.  It  is  now 
more  than  a  year  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  make 
the  cattle  hear  me  when  I  piped  to  call  them  home. 
I  did  not  know  this  until  to-night;  but  now  that  I 
know  it,  I  cannot  keep  the  money,  and  so  I  send  it 
back."  [And,  handing  the  little  bag  to  the  Dryad, 
he  bade  her  good-night,  and  turned  toward  his 
cottage.] 

"  Good-night/'  said  the  Dryad.  "  And  I  thank  you 
over,  and  over,  and  over  again,  you  good  old  man!  " 

Old  Pipes  walked  toward  his  home,  very  glad  to 
be  saved  the  fatigue  of  going  all  the  way  down  to 
the  village  and  back  again.  ["  To  be  sure,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "  this  path  does  not  seem  at  all  steep, 

140 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

and  I  can  walk  along  it  very  easily;  but  it  would 
have  tired  me  dreadfully  to  come  up  all  the  way 
from  the  village,  especially  as  I  could  not  have  ex- 
pected those  children  to  help  me  again."  When  he 
reached  home  his  mother  was  surprised  to  see  him 
returning  so  soon. 

"What!  "  she  exclaimed;  "have  you  already  come 
back?  What  did  the  Chief  Villager  say?  Did  he 
take  the  money  ?  " 

Old  Pipes  was  just  about  to  tell  her  that  he  had 
sent  the  money  to  the  village  by  a  Dryad,  when  he 
suddenly  reflected  that  his  mother  would  be  sure  to 
disapprove  such  a  proceeding,  and  so  he  merely  said 
he  had  sent  it  by  a  person  whom  he  had  met. 

"  And  how  do  you  know  that  the  person  will  ever 
take  it  to  the  Chief  Villager  ? "  cried  his  mother. 
"  You  will  lose  it,  and  the  villagers  will  never  get  it. 
Oh,  Pipes!  Pipes!  when  will  you  be  old  enough  to 
have  ordinary  common  sense  ?  " 

Old  Pipes  considered  that,  as  he  was  already  seventy 
years  of  age,  he  could  scarcely  expect  to  grow  any 
wiser;  but  he  made  no  remark  on  this  subject,  and, 
saying  that  he  doubted  not  that  the  money  would  go 
safely  to  its  destination,  he  sat  down  to  his  supper. 
His  mother  scolded  him  roundly,  but  he  did  not  mind 
it ;  and  after  supper  he  went  out  and  sat  on  a  rustic 
chair  in  front  of  the  cottage  to  look  at  the  moonlit 
village,  and  to  wonder  whether  or  not  the  Chief  Vil- 
lager really  received  the  money.  While  he  was  doing 
these  two  things,  he  went  fast  asleep.] 

When  Old  Pipes  left  Dryad,  she  did  not  go 
down  to  the  village  with  the  little  bag  of  money. 
She  held  it  in  her  hand,  and  thought  about  what  she 
had  heard.  "  This  is  a  good  and  honest  old  man/' 

141 


STORY    TELLING 

she  said ;  "  and  it  is  a  shame  that  he  should  lose  this 
money.  He  looked  as  if  he  needed  it,  and  I  don't 
believe  the  people  in  the  village  will  take  it  from  one 
who  has  served  them  so  long.  Often,  when  in  my  tree, 
have  I  heard  the  sweet  notes  of  his  pipes.  I  am  going 
to  take  the  money  back  to  him."  She  did  not  start 
immediately,  because  there  were  so  many  beautiful 
things  to  look  at ;  but  after  awhile  she  went  up  to  the 
cottage,  and,  finding  Old  Pipes  asleep  in  his  chair, 
she  slipped  the  little  bag  into  his  coat  pocket,  and 
silently  sped  away. 

The  next  day  Old  Pipes  told  his  mother  that  he 
would  go  up  the  mountain  and  cut  some  wood.  [He 
had  a  right  to  get  wood  from  the  mountain,  but  for 
a  long  time  he  had  been  content  to  pick  up  the  dead 
branches  which  lay  about  his  cottage.  To-day,  how- 
ever, he  felt  so  strong  and  vigorous  that  he  thought 
he  would  go  and  cut  some  fuel  that  would  be  bettefl 
than  this.]  He  worked  all  the  morning,  and  when  he 
came  back  he  did  not  feel  at  all  tired,  and  he  had  a 
very  good  appetite  for  his  dinner. 

Now,  Old  Pipes  knew  a  good  deal  about  Dryads; 
but  there  was  one  thing  which,  although  he  had  heard, 
he  had  forgotten.  This  was,  that  a  kiss  from  a  Dryad 
made  a  person  ten  years  younger. 

[The  people  of  the  village  knew  this,  and  they 
were  very  careful  not  to  let  any  child  of  ten  years  or 
younger  go  into  the  woods  where  the  Dryads  were 
supposed  to  be ;  for,  if  they  should  chance  to  be  kissed 
by  one  of  these  tree-nymphs,  they  would  be  set  back 
so  far  that  they  would  cease  to  exist. 

A  story  was  told  in  the  village  that  a  very  bad 
boy  of  eleven  once  ran  away  into  the  woods,  and  had 
an  adventure  of  this  kind;  and  when  his  mother 

142 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

found  him  he  was  a  little  baby  of  one  year  old.  Tak- 
ing advantage  of  her  opportunity,  she  brought  him  up 
more  carefully  than  she  had  done  before,  and  he  grew 
to  be  a  very  good  boy  indeed.] 

Now  Old  Pipes  had  been  kissed  twice  by  the  Dryad, 
once  on  each  cheek,  and  he  therefore  felt  as  vigorous 
and  active  as  when  he  was  a  hale  man  of  fifty.  [His 
mother  noticed  how  much  work  he  was  doing,  and 
told  him  that  he  need  not  try  in  that  way  to  make 
up  for  the  loss  of  his  piping  wages;  for  he  would 
only  tire  himself  out,  and  get  sick.  But  her  son  an- 
swered that  he  had  not  felt  so  well  for  years,  and 
that  he  was  quite  able  to  work.] 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  Old  Pipes,  for  the 
first  time  that  day,  put  his  hand  in  his  coat  pocket, 
and  there,  to  his  amazement,  he  found  the  little  bag 
of  money.  "  Well,  well !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  stupid, 
indeed!  I  really  thought  that  I  had  seen  a  Dryad; 
but  when  I  sat  down  by  that  big  oak  tree  I  must  have 
gone  to  sleep  and  dreamed  it  all;  and  then  I  came 
home,  thinking  I  had  given  the  money  to  a  Dryad, 
when  it  was  in  my  pocket  all  the  time.  But  the 
Chief  Villager  shall  have  the  money.  [I  shall  not 
take  it  to  him  to-day,  but  to-morrow  I  wish  to  go  to 
the  village  to  see  some  of  my  old  friends;  and  then 
I  shall  give  up  the  money."] 

Toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  Old  Pipes,  [as 
had  been  his  custom  for  so  many  years,]  took  his  pipes 
[from  the  shelf  on  which  they  lay,]  and  went  out  to 
the  rock  in  front  of  the  cottage. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  cried  his  mother. 
["  If  you  will  not  consent  to  be  paid,  why  do  you 
pipe  ?  "] 

"  I  am  going  to  pipe  for  my  own  pleasure,"  said  her 

143 


STORY   TELLING 

son.  "  I  am  used  to  it,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  give  it 
up.  [It  does  not  matter  now  whether  the  cattle  hear 
me  or  not,  and  I  am  sure  that  my  piping  will  injure 
no  one."] 

When  the  good  man  began  to  play  upon  his  favorite 
instrument  he  was  astonished  at  the  sound  that  came 
from  it.  The  beautiful  notes  of  the  pipes  sounded 
clear  and  strong  down  into  the  valley,  and  spread 
over  the  hills,  and  up  the  sides  of  the  mountain  be- 
yond, while,  after  a  little  interval,  an  echo  came  back 
from  the  rocky  hill  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley. 

"  Ha !  ha !  "  he  cried,  "  what  has  happened  to  my 
pipes?  They  must  have  been  stopped  up  of  late,  but 
now  they  are  as  clear  and  good  as  ever." 

[Again  the  merry  notes  went  sounding  far  and  wide. 
The  cattle  on  the  mountain  heard  them,  and  those  that 
were  old  enough  remembered  how  these  notes  had 
called  them  from  their  pastures  every  evening,  and 
so  they  started  down  the  mountain-side,  the  others 
following.] 

The  merry  notes  were  heard  in  the  village  below, 
and  the  people  were  much  astonished  thereby.  "  Why, 
who  can  be  blowing  the  pipes  of  Old  Pipes  ? "  they 
said.  But,  as  they  were  all  very  busy,  no  one  went 
up  to  see.  [One  thing,  however,  was  plain  enough: 
the  cattle  were  coming  down  the  mountain.  And  so 
the  two  boys  and  the  girl  did  not  have  to  go  after 
them,  and  had  an  hour  for  play,  for  which  they  were 
very  glad.] 

The  next  morning  Old  Pipes  started  down  to  the 
village  with  his  money,  and  on  the  way  he  met  the 
Dryad.  "  Oh,  ho !"  he  cried,  "  is  that  you  ?  Why,  I 
thought  my  letting  you  out  of  the  tree  was  nothing 
but  a  dream." 

144 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

"  A  dream !  "  cried  the  Dryad ;  "  if  you  only  knew 
how  happy  you  have  made  me,  you  would  not  think 
it  merely  a  dream.  And  has  it  not  benefited  you? 
[Do  you  not  feel  happier?]  Yesterday  I  heard  you 
playing  beautifully  on  your  pipes." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  he.  "  I  did  not  understand  it 
before,  but  I  see  it  all  now.  I  have  really  grown 
younger.  [I  thank  you,  I  thank  you,  good  Dryad, 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.]  It  was  the  finding  of 
the  money  in  my  pocket  that  made  me  think  it  was 
a  dream." 

"  Oh,  I  put  it  in  when  you  were  asleep,"  she  said, 
laughing,  "because  I  thought  you  ought  to  keep  it. 
Good-bye,  kind,  honest  man.  May  you  live  long,  and 
be  as  happy  as  I  am  now." 

Old  Pipes  was  greatly  delighted  when  he  under- 
stood that  he  was  really  a  younger  man;  but  that 
made  no  difference  about  the  money,  and  he  kept  on 
his  way  to  the  village.  As  soon  as  he  reached  it,  [he 
was  eagerly  questioned  as  to  who  had  been  playing 
his  pipes  the  evening  before,  and  when  the  people 
heard  that  it  was  himself  they  were  very  much  sur- 
prised. Thereupon]  Old  Pipes  told  what  had  hap- 
pened to  him,  and  then  there  was  greater  wonder, 
[with  hearty  congratulations  and  hand-shakes;  for 
Old  Pipes  was  liked  by  everyone.  The  Chief  Villager 
refused  to  take  his  money;  and  although  Old  Pipes 
said  that  he  had  not  earned  it,  everyone  present  in- 
sisted that,  as  he  would  now  play  on  his  pipes  as  be- 
fore, he  should  lose  nothing  because,  for  a  time,  he 
was  unable  to  perform  his  duty.] 

So  Old  Pipes  was  obliged  to  keep  his  money,  and 
after  an  hour  or  two  spent  in  conversation  with  his 
friends  he  returned  to  his  cottage. 

145 


STORY    TELLING 

There  was  one  person,  however,  who  was  not  pleased 
with  what  had  happened  to  Old  Pipes.  This  was  an 
Echo-dwarf  who  lived  on  the  hills  across  the  valley. 
It  was  his  work  to  echo  back  the  notes  of  the  pipes 
whenever  they  could  be  heard. 

[A  great  many  other  Echo-dwarfs  lived  on  these 
hills.  They  all  worked,  but  in  different  ways.  Some 
echoed  back  the  songs  of  maidens,  some  the  shouts  of 
children,  and  others  the  music  that  was  often  heard 
in  the  village.  But  there  was  only  one  who  could 
send  back  the  strong  notes  of  the  pipes  of  Old  Pipes, 
and  this  had  been  his  sole  duty  for  many  years.]  But 
when  [the  old  man  grew  feeble,  and]  the  notes  of 
his  pipes  could  not  be  heard  [on  the  opposite  hills,] 
this  Echo-dwarf  had  nothing  to  do,  and  he  spent  his 
time  in  delightful  idleness;  [and  he  slept  so  much 
and  grew  so  fat  that  it  made  his  companions  laugh  to 
see  him  walk.] 

On  the  afternoon  on  which,  after  so  long  an  inter- 
val, the  sound  of  the  pipes  was  heard  on  the  echo  hills, 
this  dwarf  was  fast  asleep  behind  a  rock.  As  soon  as 
the  first  notes  reached  them,  some  of  his  companions 
ran  to  wake  him  up.  Rolling  to  his  feet,  he  echoed 
back  the  merry  tune  of  Old  Pipes. 

[Naturally,  he  was  very  angry  at  being  thus 
obliged  to  give  up  his  life  of  comfort,  and  he  hoped 
very  much  that  this  pipe-playing  would  not  occur 
again.  The  next  afternoon,  he  was  awake  and  listen- 
ing, and,  sure  enough,  at  the  usual  hour,  along  came 
the  notes  of  the  pipes,  as  clear  and  strong  as  they 
ever  had  been;  and  he  was  obliged  to  work  as  long 
as  Old  Pipes  played.]  The  Echo-dwarf  was  very 
angry.  He  had  supposed,  of  course,  that  the  pipe- 
playing  had  ceased  forever,  [and  he  felt  that  he  had 

146 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

a  right  to  be  indignant  at  being  thus  deceived.]  He 
was  so  much  disturbed  that  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
go  and  try  to  find  out  how  long  this  was  to  last.  [He 
had  plenty  of  time,  as  the  pipes  were  played  but  once 
a  day,  and  he  set  off  early  in  the  morning  for  the  hill 
on  which  Old  Pipes  lived.  It  was  hard  work  for  the 
fat  little  fellow,  and]  when  he  had  crossed  the  valley 
and  had  gone  some  distance  into  the  woods  on  the 
hill-side,  he  stopped  to  rest,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
Dryad  came  tripping  along. 

"  Ho,  ho !  "  exclaimed  the  dwarf ;  "  what  are  you 
doing  here  ?  and  how  did  you  get  out  of  your  tree  ?  " 

"Doing!  "  cried  the  Dryad;  "I  am  being  happy; 
that 's  what  I  am  doing.  And  I  was  let  out  of  my 
tree  by  the  good  old  man  who  plays  the  pipes  [to 
call  the  cattle  down  from  the  mountain.  And  it 
makes  me  happier  to  think  that  I  have  been  of  ser- 
vice to  him.]  I  gave  him  two  kisses  of  gratitude,  and 
now  he  is  young  enough  to  play  his  pipes  as  well  as 
ever." 

The  Echo-dwarf  stepped  forward,  his  face  pale  with 
passion.  "  Am  I  to  believe,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are 
the  cause  of  this  great  evil  that  has  come  upon  me? 
and  that  you  are  the  wicked  creature  who  has  again 
started  this  old  man  upon  his  career  of  pipe-playing? 
What  have  I  ever  done  to  you  that  you  should  have 
condemned  me  for  years  and  years  to  echo  back  the 
notes  of  those  wretched  pipes  ?  " 

At  this  the  Dryad  laughed  loudly. 

"What  a  funny  little  fellow  you  are!  "  she  said. 
"Anyone  would  think  you  had  been  condemned  to 
toil  from  morning  till  night;  [while  what  you  really 
have  to  do  is  merely  to  imitate  for  half  an  hour 
every  day  the  merry  notes  of  Old  Pipes's  piping.] 

147 


STORY    TELLING 

Fie  upon  you,  Echo-dwarf!  You  are  lazy  and  selfish; 
and  that  is  what  is  the  matter  with  you.  [Instead  of 
grumbling  at  being  obliged  to  do  a  little  wholesome 
work,  which  is  less,  I  am  sure,  than  that  of  any  other 
echo-dwarf  upon  the  rocky  hill-side,  you  should  re- 
joice at  the  good  fortune  of  the  old  man  who  has  re- 
gained so  much  of  his  strength  and  vigor.]  Go  home 
and  learn  to  be  just  and  generous;  and  then,  per- 
haps, you  may  be  happy.  Good-bye." 

"  Insolent  creature !  "  shouted  the  dwarf,  as  he 
shook  his  fat  little  fist  at  her.  "  I  '11  make  you  suffer 
for  this.  [You  shall  find  out  what  it  is  to  heap  in- 
jury and  insult  upon  one  like  me,  and  to  snatch  from 
him  the  repose  that  he  has  earned  by  long  years  of 
toil."]  And,  shaking  his  head  savagely,  he  hurried 
back  to  the  rocky  hill-side. 

[Every  afternoon  the  merry  notes  of  the  pipes  of 
Old  Pipes  sounded  down  into  the  valley  and  over 
the  hills  and  up  the  mountain-side;  and  every  after- 
noon when  he  had  echoed  them  back,  the  little  dwarf 
grew  more  and  more  angry  with  the  Dryad.]  Each 
day,  from  early  morning  till  it  was  time  for  him  to 
go  back  to  his  duties  upon  the  rocky  hill-side,  he 
searched  the  woods  for  her.  [He  intended,  if  he  met 
her,  to  pretend  to  be  very  sorry  for  what  he  had 
said,  and]  he  thought  he  might  be  able  to  play  a 
trick  upon  her  which  would  avenge  him  well. 

One  day,  while  thus  wandering  among  the  trees, 
he  met  Old  Pipes.  [The  Echo-dwarf  did  not  generally 
care  to  see  or  speak  to  ordinary  people;  but  now  he 
was  so  anxious  to  find  the  object  of  his  search,  that] 
he  stopped  and  asked  Old  Pipes  if  he  had  seen  the 
Dryad.  [The  piper  had  not  noticed  the  little  fellow, 
and  he  looked  down  on  him  with  some  surprise.] 

148 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  I  have  not  seen  her,  and  I  have 
been  looking  everywhere  for  her." 

"  You !  "  cried  the  dwarf,  "  what  do  you  wish  with 
her?" 

Old  Pipes  then  [sat  down  on  a  stone,  so  that  he 
should  be  nearer  the  ear  of  his  small  companion,  and 
he]  told  what  the  Dryad  had  done  for  him. 

When  the  Echo-dwarf  heard  that  this  was  the  man 
whose  pipes  he  was  obliged  to  echo  back  every  day, 
he  would  have  slain  him  on  the  spot,  had  he  been 
able;  [but,  as  he  was  not  able,  he  merely  ground  his 
teeth  and  listened  to  the  rest  of  the  story.] 

"  I  am  looking  for  the  Dryad  now,"  Old  Pipes  con- 
tinued, "  on  account  of  my  aged  mother.  [When  I  was 
old  myself,  I  did  not  notice  how  very  old  my  mother 
was;  but  now  it  shocks  me  to  see  how  feeble  her 
years  have  caused  her  to  become;  and]  I  am  looking 
for  the  Dryad  to  ask  her  to  make  my  mother  younger, 
as  she  made  me." 

The  eyes  of  the  Echo-dwarf  glistened.  [Here  was 
a  man  who  might  help  him  in  his  plans.] 

"  Your  idea  is  a  good  one,"  he  said  to  Old  Pipes, 
["  and  it  does  you  honor.]  But  you  should  know  that 
a  Dryad  can  make  no  person  younger  but  one  who 
lets  her  out  of  her  tree.  [However,  you  can  manage 
the  affair  very  easily.]  All  you  need  do  is  to  find  the 
Dryad,  tell  her  what  you  want,  and  request  her  to 
step  into  her  tree  and  be  shut  up  for  a  short  time. 
Then  you  will  go  and  bring  your  mother  to  the  tree; 
she  will  open  it,  and  everything  will  be  as  you  wish. 
Is  not  this  a  good  plan  ? " 

"Excellent!  "  cried  Old  Pipes;  "and  I  will  go  in- 
stantly and  search  more  diligently  for  the  Dryad." 

["  Take  me  with  you,"  said  the  Echo-dwarf.    "  You 

149 


STORY    TELLING 

can  easily  carry  me  on  your  strong  shoulders;  and 
I  shall  be  glad  to  help  you  in  any  way  that  I  can." 

"Now,  then,"  said  the  little  fellow  to  himself,  as 
Old  Pipes  carried  him  rapidly  along,  "  if  he  per- 
suades the  Dryad  to  get  into  a  tree,  —  and  she  is 
quite  foolish  enough  to  do  it,  —  and  then  goes  away 
to  bring  his  mother,  I  shall  take  a  stone  or  a  club 
and  I  will  break  off  the  key  of  that  tree,  so  that  no- 
body can  ever  turn  it  again.  Then  Mistress  Dryad 
will  see  what  she  has  brought  upon  herself  by  her 
behavior  to  me."] 

Before  long  they  came  to  the  great  oak-tree  in 
which  the  Dryad  had  lived,  and  at  a  distance  they 
saw  that  beautiful  creature  herself  coming  toward 
them. 

["  How  excellently  well  everything  happens !  "  said 
the  dwarf.  "  Put  me  down,  and  I  will  go.  Your 
business  with  the  Dryad  is  more  important  than  mine ; 
and  you  need  not  say  anything  about  my  having  sug- 
gested your  plan  to  you.  I  am  willing  that  you 
should  have  all  the  credit  of  it  yourself."] 

Old  Pipes  put  the  Echo-dwarf  upon  the  ground,  but 
the  little  rogue  did  not  go  away.  He  hid  himself 
between  some  low,  mossy  rocks,  [and  he  was  so  much 
like  them  in  color  that  you  would  not  have  noticed 
him  if  you  had  been  looking  straight  at  him.] 

When  the  Dryad  came  up,  Old  Pipes  lost  no  time 
in  telling  her  about  his  mother,  and  what  he  wished 
her  to  do.  At  first,  the  Dryad  answered  nothing,  but 
stood  looking  very  sadly  at  Old  Pipes. 

"  Do  you  really  wish  me  to  go  into  my  tree  again  ?  " 
she  said.  "  I  should  dreadfully  dislike  to  do  it,  for 
I  don't  know  what  might  happen.  It  is  not  at  all 
necessary,  for  I  could  make  your  mother  younger  at 

150 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

any  time  if  she  would  give  me  the  opportunity.  I 
had  already  thought  of  making  you  still  happier  in 
this  way,  and  several  times  I  have  waited  about  your 
cottage,  hoping  to  meet  your  aged  mother,  but  she 
never  comes  outside,  and  you  know  a  Dryad  cannot 
enter  a  house.  I  cannot  imagine  what  put  this  idea 
into  your  head.  Did  you  think  of  it  yourself  ?  " 

"  No,  I  cannot  say  that  I  did,"  answered  Old  Pipes. 
"A  little  dwarf  whom  I  met  in  the  woods  proposed 
it  to  me." 

"Oh!"  cried  the  Dryad;  "now  I  see  through  it 
all.  It  is  the  scheme  of  that  vile  Echo-dwarf  —  your 
enemy  and  mine.  Where  is  he?  I  should  like  to  see 
him." 

"  I  think  he  has  gone  away,"  said  Old  Pipes. 

"  No,  he  has  not,"  said  the  Dryad,  whose  quick  eyes 
perceived  the  Echo-dwarf  among  the  rocks.  "  There 
he  is.  Seize  him  and  drag  him  out,  I  beg  of  you." 

Old  Pipes  saw  the  dwarf  as  soon  as  he  was  pointed 
out  to  him;  and  running  to  the  rocks,  he  caught  the 
little  fellow  by  the  arm  and  pulled  him  out. 

"  Now,  then,"  cried  the  Dryad,  who  had  opened  the 
door  of  the  great  oak,  "  just  stick  him  in  there,  and 
we  will  shut  him  up.  Then  I  shall  be  safe  from  his 
mischief  for  the  rest  of  the  time  I  am  free." 

Old  Pipes  thrust  the  Echo-dwarf  into  the  tree;  the 
Dryad  pushed  the  door  shut;  there  was  a  clicking 
sound  of  bark  and  wood,  and  no  one  would  have  no- 
ticed that  the  big  oak  had  ever  had  an  opening  in  it. 

"There,"  said  the  Dryad;  "now  we  need  not  be 
afraid  of  him.  And  I  assure  you,  my  good  piper,  that 
I  shall  be  very  glad  to  make  your  mother  younger  as 
soon  as  I  can.  Will  you  not  ask  her  to  come  out  and 
meet  me  ?  " 

151 


STORY    TELLING 

"Of  course  I  will,"  cried  Old  Pipes;  "and  I  will 
do  it  without  delay." 

And  then,  the  Dryad  by  his  side,  he  hurried  to  his 
cottage.  But  when  he  mentioned  the  matter  to  his 
mother,  the  old  woman  became  very  angry  indeed. 
She  did  not  believe  in  Dryads ;  [and,  if  they  really  did 
exist,  she  knew  they  must  be  witches  and  sorceresses, 
and  she  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  them.  If  her 
son  had  ever  allowed  himself  to  be  kissed  by  one  of 
them,  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  As  to  its 
doing  him  the  least  bit  of  good,  she  did  not  believe 
a  word  of  it.  He  felt  better  than  he  used  to  feel,  but 
that  was  very  common.  She  had  sometimes  felt  that 
way  herself,]  and  she  forbade  him  ever  to  mention  a 
Dryad  to  her  again. 

[That  afternoon,  Old  Pipes,  feeling  very  sad  that 
his  plan  in  regard  to  his  mother  had  failed,  sat  down 
upon  the  rock  and  played  upon  his  pipes.  The  pleas- 
ant sounds  went  down  the  valley  and  up  the  hills  and 
mountain,  but,  to  the  great  surprise  of  some  persons 
who  happened  to  notice  the  fact,  the  notes  were  not 
echoed  back  from  the  rocky  hill-side,  but  from  the 
woods  on  the  side  of  the  valley  on  which  Old  Pipes 
lived.  The  next  day  many  of  the  villagers  stopped  in 
their  work  to  listen  to  the  echo  of  the  pipes  coming 
from  the  woods.  The  sound  was  not  as  clear  and 
strong  as  it  used  to  be  when  it  was  sent  back  from 
the  rocky  hill-side,  but  it  certainly  came  from  among 
the  trees.  Such  a  thing  as  an  echo  changing  its  place 
in  this  way  had  never  been  heard  of  before,  and  no- 
body was  able  to  explain  how  it  could  have  happened. 
Old  Pipes,  however,  knew  very  well  that  the  sound 
came  from  the  Echo-dwarf  shut  up  in  the  great  oak- 
tree.  The  sides  of  the  tree  were  thin,  and  the  sound 

152 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

of  the  pipes  could  be  heard  through  them,  and  the 
dwarf  was  obliged  by  the  laws  of  his  being  to  echo 
back  those  notes  whenever  they  came  to  him.  But 
Old  Pipes  thought  he  might  get  the  Dryad  in  trouble 
if  he  let  anyone  know  that  the  Echo-dwarf  was  shut 
up  in  the  tree,  and  so  he  wisely  said  nothing  about  it.] 

One  day  the  two  boys  and  the  girl  who  had  helped 
Old  Pipes  up  the  hill  were  playing  in  the  woods. 
Stopping  near  the  great  oak-tree,  they  heard  a  sound 
of  knocking  within  it,  and  then  a  voice  plainly  said: 

"  Let  me  out!    let  me  out!  " 

For  a  moment  the  children  stood  still  in  astonish- 
ment, and  then  one  of  the  boys  exclaimed: 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  Dryad,  like  the  one  Old  Pipes  found ! 
Let's  let  her  out!  " 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  "  cried  the  girl.  "  I  am 
the  oldest  of  all,  and  I  am  only  thirteen.  Do  you  wish 
to  be  turned  into  crawling  babies  ?  Run !  run !  run !  " 

And  the  two  boys  and  the  girl  dashed  down  into  the 
valley  as  fast  as  their  legs  could  carry  them.  [There 
was  no  desire  in  their  youthful  hearts  to  be  made 
younger  than  they  were,  and  for  fear  that  their  par- 
ents might  think  it  well  that  they  should  commence 
their  careers  anew,  they  never  said  a  word  about 
finding  the  Dryad  tree.] 

As  the  summer  days  went  on,  Old  Pipes'  mother 
grew  feebler  and  feebler.  [One  day  when  her  son  was 
away,  for  he  now  frequently  went  into  the  woods  to 
hunt  or  fish,  or  down  into  the  valley  to  work,  she 
arose  from  her  knitting  to  prepare  the  simple  dinner. 
But  she  felt  so  weak  and  tired  that  she  was  not  able 
to  do  the  work  to  which  she  had  been  so  long  accus- 
tomed.] "Alas!  alas!"  she  said,  ["the  time  has 
come  when  I  am  too  old  to  work.  My  son  will  have 

153 


STORY    TELLING 

to  hire  some  one  to  come  here  and  cook  his  meals, 
make  his  bed,  and  mend  his  clothes.  Alas!  alas!  I 
had  hoped  that  as  long  as  I  lived  I  should  be  able  to 
do  these  things.  But  it  is  not  so.]  I  have  grown 
utterly  worthless,  and  some  one  else  must  prepare  the 
dinner  for  my  son.  T  wonder  where  he  is."  And 
tottering  to  the  door,  she  went  outside  to  look  for 
him.  She  did  not  feel  able  to  stand,  and  reaching  the 
rustic  chair,  she  sank  into  it,  quite  exhausted,  and 
soon  fell  asleep. 

The  Dryad,  who  had  often  come  to  the  cottage  [to 
see  if  she  could  find  an  opportunity  of  carrying  out 
Old  Pipes'  affectionate  design,  now  happened  by;  and 
seeing  that  the  much -desired  occasion  had  come,  she] 
stepped  up  quietly  behind  the  old  woman  and  gently 
kissed  her  on  each  cheek,  and  then  as  quietly  dis- 
appeared. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  mother  of  Old  Pipes  awoke, 
and  looking  up  at  the  sun,  she  exclaimed:  "Why,  it 
is  almost  dinner-time!  My  son  will  be  here  directly, 
and  I  am  not  ready  for  him."  [And  rising  to  her  feet, 
she  hurried  into  the  house,  made  the  fire,  set  the  meat 
and  vegetables  to  cook,  laid  the  cloth,  and  by  the 
time  her  son  arrived  the  meal  was  on  the  table.] 

"  How  a  little  sleep  does  refresh  one,"  she  said  to 
herself,  as  she  was  bustling  about.  [She  was  a  woman 
of  very  vigorous  constitution,  and  at  seventy  had  been 
a  great  deal  stronger  and  more  active  than  her  son 
was  at  that  age.]  The  moment  Old  Pipes  saw  his 
mother,  he  knew  that  the  Dryad  had  been  there;  but, 
while  he  felt  as  happy  as  a  king,  he  was  too  wise  to 
say  anything  about  her. 

["  It  is  astonishing  how  well  I  feel  to-day,"  said  his 
mother ;  "  and  either  my  hearing  has  improved  or  you 

154 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

speak  much  more  plainly  than  you  have  done  of 
late."] 

The  summer  days  went  on  and  passed  away,  the 
leaves  were  falling  from  the  trees,  and  the  air  was 
becoming  cold. 

"  Nature  has  ceased  to  be  lovely,"  said  the  Dryad, 
"  and  the  night  winds  chill  me.  It  is  time  for  me  to 
go  back  into  my  comfortable  quarters  in  the  great 
oak.  But  first  I  must  pay  another  visit  to  the  cot- 
tage of  Old  Pipes." 

She  found  the  piper  and  his  mother  sitting  side  by 
side  on  the  rock  in  front  of  the  door.  [The  cattle 
were  not  to  go  to  the  mountain  any  more  that  season, 
and  he  was  piping  them  down  for  the  last  time. 
Loud  and  merrily  sounded  the  pipes  of  Old  Pipes,  and 
down  the  mountain-side  came  the  cattle  —  the  cows  by 
the  easiest  paths,  the  sheep  by  those  not  quite  so  easy, 
and  the  goats  by  the  most  difficult  ones  among  the 
rocks;  while  from  the  great  oak-tree  were  heard  the 
echoes  of  the  cheerful  music.] 

"  How  happy  they  look,  sitting  there  together,"  said 
the  Dryad;  "  and  I  don't  believe  it  will  do  them  a  bit 
of  harm  to  be  still  younger."  And  moving  quietly 
up  behind  them,  she  first  kissed  Old  Pipes  on  his 
cheek  and  then  kissed  his  mother. 

[Old  Pipes,  who  had  stopped  playing,  knew  what  it 
was,  but  he  did  not  move,  and  said  nothing.  His 
mother,  thinking  that  her  son  had  kissed  her,  turned 
to  him  with  a  smile  and  kissed  him  in  return.  And 
then  she  arose  and  went  into  the  cottage,  a  vigorous 
woman  of  sixty,  followed  by  her  son,  erect  and  happy, 
and  twenty  years  younger  than  herself.] 

The  Dryad  sped  away  to  the  woods,  shrugging  her 
shoulders  as  she  felt  the  cool  evening  wind. 

155 


STORY    TELLING 

When  she  reached  the  great  oak,  she  turned  the  key 
and  opened  the  door.  "  Come  out/'  she  said  to  the 
Echo-dwarf,  who  sat  blinking  within.  "  Winter  is 
coming  on,  and  I  want  the  comfortable  shelter  of  my 
tree  for  myself.  [The  cattle  have  come  down  from 
the  mountain  for  the  last  time  this  year,  the  pipes 
will  no  longer  sound,  and  you  can  go  to  your  rocks 
and  have  a  holiday  until  next  spring."] 

Upon  hearing  these  words  the  dwarf  skipped  quickly 
out,  and  the  Dryad  entered  the  tree  and  pulled  the 
door  shut  after  her.  "  Now,  then,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, "  he  can  break  off  the  key  if  he  likes.  It  does 
not  matter  to  me.  Another  will  grow  out  next  spring. 
And  although  the  good  piper  made  me  no  promise,  I 
know"  that  when  the  warm  days  arrive  next  year,  he 
will  come  and  let  me  out  again." 

The  Echo-dwarf  did  not  stop  to  break  the  key  of 
the  tree.  He  was  too  happy  to  be  released  to  think 
of  anything  else,  and  he  hastened  as  fast  as  he  could 
to  his  home  on  the  rocky  hill-side. 

The  Dryad  was  not  mistaken  when  she  trusted  in 
the  piper.  When  the  warm  days  came  again  he  went 
to  the  oak  tree  to  let  her  out.  But,  to  his  sorrow 
and  surprise,  he  found  the  great  tree  lying  upon  the 
ground.  A  winter  storm  had  blown  it  down,  and  it 
lay  with  its  trunk  shattered  and  split.  And  what 
became  of  the  Dryad  no  one  ever  knew. 

NOTE.  —  The  portions  of  the  text  within  the  brackets  may  well 
be  omitted  in  telling  this  story  in  a  program  on  account  of  the 
length. 


156 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

THE    MONK   AND    THE    BIRD1 

FEOM  SCUDDEB'S  "  BOOK  OF  LEGENDS  " 

THEKE  was  an  old  monk  who  had  led  a  holy  life,  doing 
good  all  his  days.  And  one  reason  why  he  had  done 
good  was  because  he  lived  much  with  God. 

Early  in  the  morning,  before  others  had  risen,  he 
was  on  his  knees  praying  to  the  Father  of  all,  giving 
thanks  for  all  his  mercies,  and  asking  for  grace  to 
lead  a  holy  life  that  day.  And  late  at  night,  when 
others  slept,  he  lingered  long  on  his  knees/  talking 
with  God  as  with  his  dearest  friend. 

Not  only  did  this  monk  pray  in  the  chapel,  and  by 
the  side  of  his  narrow  bed,  but  as  he  walked  about 
doing  good  deeds  his  lips  moved,  and  he  scarcely  saw 
anyone  else,  for  he  was  praying  in  silence.  He  was 
always  glad  to  escape  from  himself  to  the  thought  of 
God. 

So  when  he  was  an  old,  old  man,  he  was  one  day  in 
the  garden  of  the  monastery.  He  was  too  old  and 
feeble  now  to  go  away  amongst  the  poor  and  sick; 
but  the  poor  and  sick,  young  and  old,  were  glad  when 
they  could  come  to  him  and  receive  his  blessing. 

It  was  a  lovely  morning  hour  in  early  summer,  and 
the  garden  was  sweet  with  odors  of  roses.  The  air 
was  soft  and  still.  The  old  monk  had  been  helped 
out  to  a  garden-bench,  and  there  left.  He  was  in 
perfect  peace,  and  when  he  was  alone  he  sank  upon 
his  knees  by  the  bench,  and  lifted  his  peaceful  soul  in 
prayer  and  praise. 

As  he  prayed  there  came  a  sweet,  pure  note  to  his 

1  Copyright,  1899,  HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  Co.  Used  by  per- 
mission. 

157 


STORY    TELLING 

ear.  It  did  not  disturb  him.  He  knew  it  for  the 
voice  of  one  of  God's  happy  creatures,  and  as  he 
prayed,  he  listened  with  a  smile  to  this  bird  singing 
in  one  of  the  rose  trees  in  the  garden.  He  thought 
he  never  had  heard  anything  so  liquid  as  the  song  of 
this  bird. 

The  notes  so  filled  his  soul  that  he  rose  from  his 
knees  to  listen  to  the  song.  He  rested  his  hands  on 
his  stout  stick  and  listened.  Then  he  drew  near  the 
rose-tree  from  which  the  song  came. 

As  he  drew  near,  the  little  bird  continued  singing 
and  then  fled  to  a  grove  farther  away,  and  again 
began  calling  with  its  sweet  note.  The  old  monk,  for- 
getting everything  else,  eagerly  pressed  forward.  It 
was  as  if  he  heard  some  bird  of  God. 

Oh,  rapture!  he  neared  the  bird  again  and  heard 
the  pure  notes  sounding  clearer  and  clearer.  Once 
more  the  bird  filled  his  soul  and  he  listened,  listened. 
Then  away  flew  the  bird,  and  led  him  by  its  song  to 
a  farther  grove.  Still  the  old  man  pressed  on. 

Thus  hour  by  hour  the  heavenly  bird  sang,  and 
hour  by  hour  the  old  monk  listened  intent.  He  would 
not  lose  a  note.  But  at  last  the  bird's  song  grew 
gentler,  until  it  ceased  altogether.  The  day  was 
nearing  its  close. 

Then  the  happy  old  man  set  his  face  westward,  and 
made  his  way  back  toward  the  monastery,  carrying 
the  memory  of  the  song  which  mingled  with  his 
prayer,  so  that  he  scarce  knew  whether  he  was  pray- 
ing or  listening  to  the  music. 

It  was  nightfall  when  he  found  himself  once  again 
within  the  garden;  but  it  was  not  yet  dark,  and  in 
the  evening  light  he  looked  about  him  at  the  old 
scene.  He  was  perplexed  at  the  appearance  of  things. 

158 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

There  was  the  convent,  there  was  the  garden,  and 
yet  nothing  looked  quite  as  when  he  had  left  the 
place. 

As  he  stood  wondering,  a  brother  monk  drew  near. 
He  wore  the  familiar  dress,  yet  his  face  seemed 
strange.  Well  as  our  old  monk  knew  all  the  brethren, 
this  newcomer  he  could  not  remember  ever  to  have 
seen.  But  he  must  needs  speak  to  him,  and  he  asked : 

"  What  has  happened  ?  Why  is  it  that  everything 
looks  so  changed  since  morning?  What  has  taken 
place  ?  But  perhaps  you  have  only  just  come.  Is 
Brother  Andrew  within  ?  " 

The  monk  looked  at  him  as  he  spoke,  and  he  won- 
dered as  he  looked.  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  there  has  been 
no  change  here  to-day,  no,  nor  for  many  years.  I 
have  myself  been  here  ten  years  come  Michaelmas. 
There  is  no  Brother  Andrew  amongst  us.  But  thou? 
pray,  who  art  thou?  and  whence  earnest  thou?  This 
is  the  dress  of  the  order,  though  somewhat  old,  but  I 
have  never  seen  thee  before.  What  is  thy  name,  good 
brother?" 

The  old  monk,  much  wondering,  told  his  name,  and 
said  further :  "  It  was  only  this  morning,  early  this 
morning,  that  I  left  the  garden,  for  I  heard  the  song 
of  a  bird,  and  it  was  like  a  song  let  down  from 
heaven  to  draw  me  up." 

Now  when  the  younger  monk  heard  the  name,  he 
fell  on  his  knees,  and  took  the  robe  of  the  other  in  his 
hand,  and  bowed  over  it.  Then  he  told  him  how  it 
was  written  in  the  books  of  the  monastery  that  a 
holy  man  of  that  name  had  strangely  disappeared  out 
of  their  sight  two  hundred  years  ago. 

"  And  it  was  written,"  he  said,  "  that  like  as  the 
Lord  God  buried  his  servant  Moses  and  no  man  knew 

159 


STORY    TELLING 

where  he  was  buried,  so  did  he  hide  from  our  sight 
this  holy  brother." 

At  that,  a  smile  spread  over  the  face  of  the  old 
monk,  and  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  said,  "  My  hour 
of  death  is  come.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  for 
all  his  mercies  to  me,"  and  so  he  breathed  out  his 
spirit. 

Then  all  the  monks  in  the  monastery  were  called 
to  witness  this  strange  sight;  and  the  young  monk 
who  had  held  converse  with  the  old  man  turned  to 
his  brethren  and  said: 

"  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner !  When  this  old 
man  drew  near  to  me  I  was  thinking  to  myself,  how 
can  I  bear  the  thought  of  an  eternity  of  happiness? 
shall  I  not  weary  of  endless  peace?  but  lo!  our 
brother  heard  a  bird  of  God  for  but  a  single  day  as 
he  thought,  and  it  was  two  hundred  years.  Surely 
a  thousand  years  in  His  sight  are  but  as  yesterday, 
and  as  a  day  that  is  past." 

Sara  Cone  Bryant's  two  books,  "  How  to 
Tell  Stories  to  Children"  and  "Stories  to 
Tell  to  Children";  the  Bulletin  of  the  Car- 
negie Library  of  Pittsburgh  on  "  Stories  to 
Tell  to  Children  under  Twelve  Years  of 
Age";  Eva  Tappan's  "The  Children's 
Hour  "  and  the  story  teller's  magazine,  "  The 
Story-hour,"  all  furnish  suggestions  for  the 
stories  to  be  used  in  the  miscellaneous  pro- 
gram. Such  books  as  the  collections  of  fairy 
and  folk  tales  of  Joseph  Jacobs,  the  Grimm 
160 


MISCELLANEOUS    STORIES 

brothers,  Sir  George  Dasent,  and  Hans  Chris- 
tian Andersen  ought  to  be  possessions  of 
every  story  teller. 

NOTE.  —  The  suggestion  for  the  manner  in  which  a  text  is  cut  for 
telling  as  shown  in  "  Old  Pipes  and  the  Dryad  "  should  be  fol- 
lowed in  all  of  the  longer  stories  given  in  theae  programs. 


161 


CHAPTER    V 

BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES 

Biography  a  source  for  stories  to  tell ;  the  dramatic  element 
necessary  for  a  good  story  to  tell;  suggestions  for  biog- 
raphies to  tell. 

ONE  of  the  problems  which  confront 
the  novice  in  story  telling  is  the  ques- 
tion where  to  obtain  the  best  material,  and 
he  is  apt  to  overlook  the  most  obvious  source 
of  supply,  because  he  is  not  quite  certain 
what  are  the  requirements  of  that  material. 

The  child  who  has  lost  something  of  his 
interest  in  fairy  tales  and  other  imaginative 
literature  craves  the  realistic  story,  or  the 
recital  of  actual  fact,  a  legitimate  desire 
which  should  suggest  a  field  little  used  by 
story  tellers,  but  full  of  great  possibilities. 

We  are  so  familiar  with  the  old  saying 
"  Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction  "  that  it  has 
ceased  to  have  much  meaning  for  us,  but  as 
applied  to  the  dramatic  quality  of  the  bio- 
graphical story  it  is  really  significant.  The 
162 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES 

child  is  already  looking  for  a  hero,  the  atti- 
tude of  hero  worship  continuing  through  the 
years  of  his  evolution  into  youth;  and  cir- 
cumstances and  association  will  be  largely 
responsible  for  the  heroes  who  succeed  each 
other  in  his  affections. 

History,  as  some  one  has  said,  is  but  a 
series  of  biographies,  and  if  we  are  careful 
to  choose  the  lives  of  such  characters  in  his- 
tory as  may  be  said  to  represent  the  hero 
idea,  we  shall  be  serving  two  purposes  at  once 
—  teaching  history  while  we  gratify  the  love 
of  the  hero. 

Some  feel  inclined  to  shun  biographical 
stories  because  they  feel  that  there  is  no  art 
possible  in  the  presentation  of  mere  facts.  A 
little  reflection,  however,  will  show  that  facts 
are  not  lifeless  bones,  but  may  be  clothed  in 
as  beautiful  form  and  throb  with  as  vigor- 
ous pulses  of  life  as  any  purely  imaginative 
creation. 

Mr.  Winchester  says  in  his  "  Principles 
of  Literary  Criticism  " :  "  But  a  moment's 
reflection  will  show  us  that  the  imagination  is 
no  less  necessary  in  the  more  sober  and  pe- 
destrian varieties  of  literature.  In  history, 
163 


STORY    TELLING 

for  example.  The  historian  needs  imagina- 
tion, first,  to  secure  the  truth  of  his  work. 
He  must  see  his  men  and  women  if  he  would 
judge  them  rightly.  It  is  his  task  not  merely 
to  arrange  and  chronicle  facts,  but  rather, 
from  scattered  memoranda,  from  fragmen- 
tary and  often  conflicting  records,  to  re- 
create the  men  and  women  of  the  past  as 
they  were,  real  living  persons  whose  motives 
shall  be  clear  to  us.  He  must  do  more  than 
that.  He  must  set  these  persons  in  their 
proper  environment  of  circumstance,  and  he 
must  further  recreate  for  us  that  complex, 
indefinable  something  we  call  the  spirit  of 
the  age,  its  characteristic  feelings,  prefer- 
ences, modes  of  judgment." 

"  And  if  the  historian  needs  imagination  to 
insure  the  truth  of  his  work,  he  needs  it 
still  more  to  give  that  work  interest  and  last- 
ing literary  value  .  .  .  the  great  historians 
whose  work  has  recognized  and  permanent 
value  have  always  known  how  to  present 
their  story  vividly  before  our  imagination 
and  thus  give  to  it  the  movement  and  charm 
of  real  life." 

If  the  story  teller  is  to  present  history 
164 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES 

or  biography  it  will  easily  be  seen,  from  the 
standard  which  Mr.  Winchester  sets,  how 
vital  a  part  imagination  has  to  play  in  order 
to  preserve  truthfulness  of  statement  and  at 
the  same  time  to  give  literary  value  to  the 
story. 

The  beginner  in  the  art  of  story  telling 
will  find  that  the  historical  or  biographical 
story  is  much  less  difficult  to  handle  than 
purely  imaginative  material,  because  the  foun- 
dation of  fact  is  a  firm  one  on  which  to  stand, 
and  will  give  a  definite  skeleton  about  which 
to  work.  The  most  difficult  stories  to  tell  are 
those  which  depend  for  their  charm  upon  the 
atmosphere  rather  than  the  plot,  the  subtle- 
ties of  words  and  phrases  and  the  impres- 
sions created  by  them,  rather  than  a  defi- 
nite line  of  action  carried  forward  by  the 
characters. 

If  the  very  deeds  of  a  man  are  picturesque, 
a  recital  of  them  is  in  itself  convincing,  and 
so  in  a  sense,  these  biographical  stories  tell 
themselves  if  the  subjects  are  well  chosen. 

There  is  perhaps  no  place  where  the  per- 
sonal equation  will  count  for  so  much  as  in 
the  telling  of  these  stories.  A  genuine  liking 
165 


STORY    TELLING 

for  the  character  to  be  portrayed  is  an  al- 
most necessary  factor  because  there  may  be 
little  of  literary  merit  connected  with  the 
source  material  which  will  inspire  the  narra- 
tor with  enthusiasm  for  his  story.  The 
writer  of  history  or  biography  may  find  it 
incumbent  upon  him  to  treat  of  some  subject 
entirely  distasteful  to  him  personally,  yet  he 
may  handle  it  with  so  masterly  and  impartial 
a  style  as  almost  to  deceive  the  reader  as  to 
his  own  attitude. 

But  the  very  presence  of  the  story  teller 
before  his  audience  makes  it  impossible  to 
conceal  what  he  feels,  and  necessitates  a 
treatment  of  the  material  with  something  of 
the  approach  of  the  hero-worshipper.  One 
can  hardly  imagine  a  skald  or  a  troubadour 
deliberately  rehearsing  the  deeds  of  one 
whom  he  secretly  despised,  unless  they 
formed  the  shadow  which  made  the  sunlight 
of  heroic  accomplishment  shine  brighter. 

For  this  reason  it  is  impossible  to  make 
arbitrary  lists  of  characters  whose  histories 
it  is  desirable  to  repeat.  The  story  teller 
must  use  his  own  discretion  to  a  large  ex- 
tent in  his  selection,  being  careful,  however, 
166 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES 

not  to  let  personal  caprice  prejudice  his 
judgment  concerning  the  lives  which  have  such 
universal  interest  and  dramatic  power  that 
association  and  study  would-  show  them  to 
have  exceptional  value  for  story  telling. 

We  all  recognize  the  value  to  society  of 
men  and  women  who  go  faithfully  about  their 
daily  tasks,  never  achieving  fame  or  glory  by 
especially  notable  deeds.  But  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  they  are  perhaps  the  most  desirable 
constituents  of  society,  the  very  uneventful- 
ness  of  their  lives  robs  them  of  the  dramatic 
quality  necessary  for  a  good  story. 

Again,  we  find  the  record  of  a  life  which 
runs  on  the  even  tenor  of  its  way  for  years, 
when  suddenly  a  turn  of  the  wheel  of  Fortune 
changes  it  from  a  prosaic  existence  to  one  full 
of  adventure  and  unusual  happenings.  These 
dramatic  episodes  may  well  become  the  sub- 
ject of  a  story,  but  since  they  are  the  really 
significant  thing,  the  other  events  of  the  biog- 
raphy should  be  used  only  as  a  background. 
Grace  Darling  and  Father  Damien  furnish 
examples  of  such  stirring  incidents  in  other- 
wise uneventful  careers.  Explorers  like  La 
Salle  and  George  Rogers  Clark,  rulers  like 
167 


STORY    TELLING 

Alfred  the  Great  and  William  the  Conqueror, 
seem  studies  made  to  order  for  a  series  of 
stories  of  the  most  thrilling  character.  Na- 
poleon and  Garibaldi,  as  masters  of  accom- 
plishment, are  men,  phases  of  whose  lives 
yield  splendid  story  material  for  children. 

St.  Francis  of  Assisi  and  Robert  the  Bruce 
represent  the  type  of  devotion  to  an  ideal, 
religious  and  patriotic,  which  in  itself  is  in- 
spiring. The  fact  that  historians  are  declar- 
ing that  William  Tell  is  a  myth,  and  that  the 
stories  about  Robert  the  Bruce  we  have  loved 
are  not  true,  really  does  not  make  any  differ- 
ence about  the  value  of  telling  these  stories  to 
children. 

It  will  be  better,  however,  to  tell  the  chil- 
dren at  the  close  of  a  William  Tell  cycle 
that  historians  are  questioning  the  truth  of 
these  stories,  but  whether  such  a  man  really 
lived  or  not  does  not  matter,  because  he  repre- 
sents the  patriotic  spirit  of  the  Swiss  so  per- 
fectly that  there  are  many  men  who  might 
have  borne  his  name. 

Joan  of  Arc  is  perhaps  as  good  an  illus- 
tration as  we  have  of  biographical  material 
for  a  cycle  of  stories.  No  character  in  his- 
168 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES 

tory  is  more  fascinating,  uniting  as  it  does 
the  elements  of  military  heroism,  devotion  to 
a  cause,  and  that  cause  patriotic,  strength 
and  simplicity  of  character.  Great  care 
should  be  used  in  telling  the  opening  chapters 
of  the  story,  because  of  the  supernatural 
element  of  "  the  voices."  These  do  not  need 
to  be  explained,  neither  should  they  be  done 
away  with,  for  the  attitude  of  children  even 
as  old  -as  those  who  will  be  interested  in 
Joan's  story  will  in  most  cases  be  that  of 
simple  acceptance.  Boutet  de  Monvel  records 
this  part  of  the  story  with  a  simplicity  which 
is  worthy  of  imitation. 

"  One  summer  day,  when  she  was  thirteen  years 
old,  she  heard  a  voice  at  midday  in  her  father's 
garden.  A  great  light  shone  upon  her,  and  the  arch- 
angel St.  Michael  appeared  to  her.  He  told  her  to 
be  a  good  girl  and  go  to  church.  Then,  telling  her 
of  the  great  mercy  which  was  in  store  for  the  King- 
dom of  France,  he  announced  to  her  that  she  should 
go  to  the  help  of  the  Dauphin  and  bring  him  to  be 
crowned  at  Rheims.  '  I  am  only  a  poor  girl/  she 
said.  '  God  will  help  thee/  answered  the  archangel. 
And  the  child,  overcome,  was  left  weeping. 

"  From  this  day,  Joan's  piety  became  still  more  ar- 
dent. The  child  loved  to  go  apart  from  her  play- 
mates to  meditate,  and  heavenly  voices  spoke  to  her, 
telling  her  of  her  mission. 

169 


STORY    TELLING 

"These,  she  said,  were  the  voices  of  her  Saints. 
Often  the  voices  were  accompanied  by  visions.  St. 
Catherine  and  St.  Margaret  appeared  to  her.  '  I  have 
seen  them  with  my  bodily  eyes/  she  said  later  to  her 
judges,  '  and  when  they  left  me  I  used  to  cry.  I 
wanted  them  to  take  me  with  them.' 

"  The  girl  grew,  her  mind  elevated  by  her  visions, 
and  her  inmost  heart  keeping  the  secret  of  her  heav- 
enly intercourse." 

The  original  records  are  so  utilized  that 
the  author  has  given  the  strongest  rendering 
of  the  story  possible.  Wherever  funds  per- 
mit, this  beautiful  book  should  be  the  posses- 
sion of  children  not  only  because  of  !the 
beauty  and  strength  of  the  text,  but  because 
the  story  is  repeated  so  marvellously  in  the 
illustrations  of  this  artist. 

Before  telling  this  story,  the  narrator  will 
be  greatly  helped  if  he  can  read  some  sym- 
pathetic biography  not  intended  for  children 
and  then  take  the  text  for  his  stories  from  a 
more  simple  and  condensed  form. 

H.  Morse  Stephens  speaks  of  Francis  C. 
Lowell's  "  Joan  of  Arc "  as  "  distinctively 
the  best  thing  in  the  English  language  on  the 
life  and  career  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans." 

Material  to  be  used  as  a  text  for  the  tell- 
170 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES 

ing  of  the  story,  and  which  can  afterward  be 
given  to  the  children  for  reading,  will  be 
found  in  any  of  the  following  books. 

THE  RED  TRUE  STORY  BOOK.  —  LANG 

THE  STORY  OF  JOAN  OF  ARC  (CHILDREN'S  HEROES 
SERIES  ) .  —  LANG 

STORIES  OF  OLD  FRANCE.  —  PITMAN 

BRAVE  DEEDS.  —  TROWBRIDGE 

THE  MAID  OF  ORLEANS  (LIFE  STORIES  FOB  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  SERIES).  —  UPTON 

A  cycle  of  five  stories  will  cover  the  history 
of  Joan's  life  and  the  most  important  inci- 
dents covered  in  the  following  outline: 

First  story:  A  few  words  in  the  intro- 
duction to  explain  the  political  situation,  the 
struggle  between  the  two  kings  for  the 
possession  of  France.  Girlhood  of  Joan, 
call  of  "  the  voices,"  and  the  visit  to  the 
Dauphin. 

Second  story :  Attack  and  delivery  of 
Orleans. 

Third  story:  Defeat  of  the  English  and 
crowning  of  the  Dauphin. 

Fourth  story:  Treachery  of  Paris  and 
capture  of  Joan. 

Fifth  story :    Joan's  trial  and  death. 
171 


STORY    TELLING 

A   SUGGESTIVE   LIST   OF   BOOKS   FOR 
BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES 

ALFRED  THE  GREAT 

Fifty  Famous  Stories.  —  BALDWIN 

In  the  Days  of  Alfred  the  Great.  — •  TAPPAN 

Stories  from  English  History.  —  WARREN 

GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK 

Pioneers  of  the  Mississippi  Valley.  —  McMuRRY 
Four  American  Pioneers.  —  PERRY  and  BEEBE 

FATHER  DAMIEN 

Alice's  Visit  to  the  Hawaiian  Islands.  —  KRAUS 
The  Red  True  Story  Book  of  Heroes.  —  LANG 

GRACE  DARLING 

Fifty  Famous  Stories.  —  BALDWIN 
The  Blue  True  Story  Book.  —  LANG 
The  True  Story  Book.  —  LANG 

FRANCIS  OF  ASSISI 

Book  of  Saints  and  Friendly  Beasts.  —  BROWN 
In  God's  Garden.  —  STEDMAN 

GARIBALDI 

Lives  of  Poor  Boys  who  Became  Famous. — BOLTON 

GENERAL  GORDON 

The  Story  of  General  Gordon  (Children's  Heroes 
Series ) .  —  LANG,  JEANIE 

LA  SALLE 

The  Discovery  of  the  Old  Northwest.  —  BALDWIN 
The  Pioneers  of  the  Mississippi  Valley. — McMuRRY 
Parkman's  Works.  (Read  as  much  as  possible.) 

NAPOLEON 

Famous  Leaders  among  Men.  —  BOLTON 
The  Boys'  Book  of  Famous  Rulers.  —  FARMER 
The  Boy  Life  of  Napoleon.  —  FOA 

172 


BIOGRAPHICAL    STORIES 

Napoleon  the  Little  Corsican.  —  HATHAWAY 

The  Story  of  Napoleon  ( Children's  Heroes  Series ) . — 

MARSHALL 
ROBERT  THE  BRUCE 

Fifty  Famous  Stories.  —  BALDWIN 

Boys'  Book  of  Famous  Rulers.  —  FARMER 

The  Story  of  the  English.  —  GTJERBER 

The  Story  of  Robert  the  Bruce  (Children's  Heroes 

Series).  —  LANG,  JEANIE 
WILLIAM  TELL 

Fifty  Famous  Stories.  —  BALDWIN 

Ten  Great  Events  in  History.  —  JOHONNOT 

Stories   of  William  Tell    (Told  to  the   Children 

Series ) .  —  MARSHALL 
The  Book  of  Legends.  —  SCUDDER 
William   Tell    (Life    Stories    for    Young    People 

Series ) .  —  UPTON 
WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR 
Historic  Boys.  —  BROOKS 
In  the  Days  of  William  the  Conqueror.  —  TAPPAN 


173 


CHAPTER   VI 

NATIONAL   EPIC   TALES 
What  is  an  epic?  Why  they  are  good  stories  to  tell. 


HILDREN  —  all  children,  one  im- 
agines,  since  the  line  of  cleavage  is 
not  developed  until  later  —  love  fiction  be- 
cause it  gives  form  to  their  unformulated  long- 
ing for  adventure,  and  makes  articulate  their 
unvoiced  dreams  of  romantic  achievement." 

Perhaps  it  is  because  the  folk  and  fairy 
tales,  and  the  great  epic  literature  of  the 
world,  were  first  recited  to  groups  of  eager 
listeners  and  were  not  produced  with  the 
idea  of  a  printed  form,  that  they  furnish 
the  most  successful  sources  of  material  for 
the  story  teller.  Excellent  sources  of  fairy 
tales  have  been  cited  in  books  already  re- 
ferred to,  and  such  selections  should  not 
only  be  used  for  the  younger  child,  but  should 
stand  as  types  of  any  new  material  which  the 
story  teller  himself  may  find.  It  is  not  the 
purpose  of  the  present  volume,  however,  to 
174 


NATIONAL    EPIC    TALES 

concern  itself  primarily  with  the  problem  of 
the  younger  child,  whom  we  have  considered 
possibly  overmuch,  to  the  neglect  of  his  older 
brother,  who  suffers  even  more  than  he  from 
ignorant  and  thoughtless  suggestion  of  every, 
kind. 

When  the  boy  and  girl  have  outgrown  their 
fairy  tales,  have  cast  aside  the  stories  of 
Indians  and  primitive  men,  when  Robinson 
Crusoe  is  no  longer  so  large  a  hero  as  he 
was,  and  the  realistic  stories  of  everyday 
life  pall  on  them,  then  the  cry  for  adventure 
becomes  persistent  and  is  not  to  be  denied. 
Hero  they  must  have,  and  if  one  of  heroic 
proportions  is  not  supplied,  they  will  be- 
come the  prey  of  an  imitation  which  for  the 
time  satisfies  their  desires. 

The  heroic  ideal  has  changed  with  the 
progress  of  civilization ;  never  has  the  world 
demanded  as  much  of  a  man  who  is  to  be  a 
hero  as  at  the  present  time. 

In  the  same  way  the  ideals  of  children 
develop,  and  the  hero  of  their  early  admira- 
tion is  the  man  of  action,  of  deeds,  of  physi- 
cal courage;  later  they  learn  that  there  is 
a  higher  type  of  hero,  the  man  who  endures, 
175 


STORY   TELLING 

who  suffers  and  lives  for  a  principle  ^-  the 
hero  of  moral  courage. 

We  cannot  force  the  child's  growth  any 
more  than  we  can  change  the  natural  devel- 
opment of  nations.  If,  when  the  child  first 
craves  adventure,  he  is  met  with  a  hero  of  the 
type  which  he  can  understand,  we  may  trust 
to  time  for  the  development  of  his  standards. 
This  does  not  mean  that  he  is  to  be  given  less 
than  a  real  hero  at  any  time,  but  that,  so 
long,  for  instance,  as  physical  courage  is  the 
only  courage  he  can  appreciate,  he  shall  be 
met  with  worthy  examples  of  men  who  dared 
and  accomplished  material  achievement. 

The  cleverness  of  many  modern  writers  in 
seizing  the  opportunity  which  the  love  of 
adventure  offers  for  supplying  an  inexhaus- 
tible stream  from  the  press  is  certainly 
worthy  of  comment.  They  are  wise  in  thus 
catering  to  desire  which  is  not  a  passing 
fad,  but  there  is  no  wisdom  which  can  justify 
the  acceptance  of  mere  printed  stuff,  simply 
because  it  will  satisfy  the  demand  of  the 
child  for  something  to  read. 

It  is  not  merely  a  question  of  reading,  it 
is  also  a  question  of  character,  for  the  man 
176 


NATIONAL    EPIC    TALES 

who  becomes   a  hero   for  the  child  becomes 
at  the  same  time  a  model  for  his  imitation. 

There  exists  no  greater  source  of  hero 
stories,  valuable  both  as  literature  and  as 
portrayals  of  noble  character,  than  that  fur- 
nished by  the  national  epic  literature.  The 
term  "  classics  "  is  to  many  synonymous 
with  that  which  is  stupid  and  uninteresting; 
but  instead  of  being,  as  they  seem  to  think, 
a  dead  and  lifeless  relic  of  a  bygone  day, 
it  is  in  reality  the  body  of  literature  which 
has  retained  a  place  for  itself  during  all  the 
passage  of  years,  because  there  is  in  it  some- 
thing of  such  a  quality  that  it  cannot  die. 
Leon  Gautier,  the  authoritative  critic  and 
translator  of  the  "  Chanson  de  Roland," 
says :  "  If  lyrical  poetry  is  essentially  per- 
sonal, epic  poetry  is  essentially  national.  It 
can  grow  only  out  of  a  people  which  is  al- 
ready a  nation,  with  a  national  conscious- 
ness, and  which  combines  four  qualities  not 
rare  to  find  in  simple  times :  it  must  be  re- 
ligiously inclined,  warlike,  unsophisticated, 
and  fond  of  song.  I  may  add  that  the  na- 
tion should  not,  at  the  moment  it  produces 
the  epic,  be  in  a  calm  and  prosperous  con- 
177 


STORY    TELLING 

dition;  peace  never  yet  gave  birth  to  an 
epic.  It  needs  a  struggle,  its  birthplace  is 
a  battle-field,  amidst  the  dying  who  have 
given  their  lives  to  some  great  cause.  So 
much  for  soil.  Then  the  epic  needs  matter 
—  some  positive  central  fact,  which  it  will 
enlarge  upon  in  telling  it.  The  fact  almost 
always  is  historical,  and  mostly  sad,  —  a  de- 
feat, a  death.  .  .  .  Lastly,  it  must  have  a 
hero,  and  the  hero  must  completely  embody 
his  time  and  nationality.  His  personality 
must  tower  above  the  epic  fact,  so  that  this 
fact  be  nothing  without  him  and  derive  all  its 
importance  from  him." 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  epic 
had  its  birth  in  the  life  of  a  single  nation, 
it  contains  those  typically  human  character- 
istics which  make  it  one  of  the  great  univer- 
sal books  which  in  a  sense  know  neither  time 
nor  nationality. 

The  national  epics  are  not  desirable  to 
give  to  children  simply  because  they  are 
classics  and  should  form  part  of  the  child's 
education,  but  because  they  are  adapted  to 
his  enjoyment  and  contain  models  for  imi- 
tation worthy  of  his  metal. 
178 


NATIONAL    EPIC    TALES 

There  are  some  who  maintain  that  all 
the  national  epics  should  be  told  to  children, 
but  it  would  seem  that  no  literature  is  suit- 
able for  a  child  unless  it  portrays  ideas  and 
experiences  which  lie  within  the  field  of  his 
knowledge  or  the  grasp  of  his  understand- 
ing. For  example,  the  great  classic  of 
Dante  has  been  retold  for  children.  The 
significance  of  this  marvellous  poem,  surely, 
can  touch  only  the  mature  experience  and 
should  be  reserved  for  the  relatively  later 
years  of  life. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  most  characteristic 
qualities  of  the  Odyssey  are  identical  with 
the  interests  of  a  child  from  eleven  to  four- 
teen. Its  composition  makes  it  one  of  the 
most  perfect  of  the  stories  of  adventure,  for 
there  is  a  central  figure  which  gives  it  unity 
and  binds  the  separate  stories  together, 
while  the  motive  of  getting  home,  gives  to 
the  adventures  the  character  of  incidents, 
not  of  central  themes.  The  interests  of  the 
story  are  adapted  to  the  child,  the  cleverness 
and  resourcefulness  of  the  hero  as  well  as 
his  determined  purpose  appeal  to  him. 

The  question  of  the  age  for  which  the 
179 


STORY    TELLING 

hero  stories  are  adapted  gives  rise  to  a  wide 
diversity  of  opinion.  Many  people  believe 
that  if  the  text,  or  a  portion  of  it,  is  suffi- 
ciently simplified  the  same  story  can  be  given 
suitably  to  any  age  in  a  modified  version. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  it  is  possible  to 
interest  a  little  child  in  the  merest  fragment 
of  Robinson  Crusoe,  but  in  order  to  bring 
the  tale  within  his  comprehension,  it  must 
of  necessity  be  robbed  of  all  that  gives  it 
charm  and  vitality.  Would  it  not  be  better 
to  supply  this  child  from  the  vast  store- 
house of  folk-lore  and  fairy  tales  which  can 
be  used  in  most  cases  in  their  original  form, 
and  reserve  Robinson  Crusoe  for  a  time  when 
he  may  step  upon  the  stage  in  the  guise  and 
stature  of  a  true  hero?  The  occasional  child 
will  be  found  who  enjoys  this  piecemeal 
acquaintance,  and  will  rejoice  to  add  to  his 
knowledge  of  Ulysses  as  he  meets  him  from 
kindergarten  to  high  school,  but  for  most  of 
them  the  dwarf  of  the  early  version  is  the  one 
which  contents  them,  and  the  high-water 
mark  of  interest  is  entirely  missed  because 
they  were  not  allowed  to  wait  until  the  appeal 
was  made  by  the  masterpiece  itself. 
180 


NATIONAL    EPIC    TALES 

The  retort  may  be  made,  that  consistency, 
will  demand  that  people  should  not  read  the 
masterpieces  till  they  can  do  so  in  the  orig- 
inal, but  this  position  is  certainly  not  ten- 
able unless  foreign  languages  are  among  the 
early  acquisitions  of  childhood. 

The  tales  which  will  be  selected  for  chil- 
dren from  these  national  hero  stories  are  rich 
in  adventure,  full  of  action,  romance,  and 
deeds  of  bravery;  but  the  adventure,  the 
action,  and  even  the  romance  are  of  the  na- 
ture to  appeal  to  a  boy  rather  than  a  man, 
to  the  years  of  bodily  rather  than  of  mental 
activity,  to  the  days  of  simplicity  not  com- 
plexity, to  the  openness  of  boyhood  instead 
of  the  introspective  analysis  of  manhood, 
and  for  this  reason  they  will  find  a  spon- 
taneous response  almost  entirely  lacking  in 
mature  years. 

The  spirit  of  the  stories  is  the  spirit  of 
youth;  their  very  origin  in  the  days  when 
all  the  world  was  young  and  when  a  single 
hero  was  credited  with  every  possible  and 
impossible  virtue  as  is  the  way  of  youth, 
fits  them  preeminently  to  be  not  the  stories 
of  adult  life,  but  the  stories  of  the  days 
181 


STORY    TELLING 

when  the  world  is  growing  up.  It  is  cer- 
tainly important  to  see  that  the  translating 
or  retelling  keeps  the  atmosphere  and  spirit 
of  the  original ;  but  if  we  have  such  a  version 
it  may  well  be  used  when  it  can  sway  and 
hold  the  imagination  of  the  child. 

It  is  certainly  a  most  desirable  and  happy 
thing  for  a  child  to  grow  up  in  a  home 
where  the  famous  names  of  history  and  lit- 
erature are  spoken  often  and  with  familiar- 
ity, where  without  knowing  it  he  makes 
acquaintances  among  the  world's  great  char- 
acters long  before  he  can  appreciate  the 
story  of  their  deeds.  Unconsciously  he  be- 
comes interested,  and  at  length  inquires  the 
significance  of  what  he  at  first  took  for 
granted,  hearing  the  stories  of  these  men 
and  events  when  his  mind  is  ripe  for  them. 
But  such  a  condition  is  entirely  different  in 
its  results  from  the  presentation  of  a  story 
simplified  out  of  all  likeness  to  the  original 
for  the  definite  purpose  of  giving  it  to  a 
child  in  a  form  he  can  grasp. 

If  a  study  of  these  national  epics  is  made 
they  will  be  found  to  be  pictures  painted  on 
big  canvases,  with  huge  brushes,  often  rep- 
182 


NATIONAL    EPIC    TALES 

resenting  very  elemental  emotions  and  vir- 
tues, but  pictures  which  breathe  out  courage 
and  strength,  justice,  if  not  always  the  finer 
quality  of  mercy,  quick  decision  and  re- 
sourcefulness, sometimes  even  unselfishness 
and  devotion  to  principle.  Such  qualities 
are  worthy  of  imitation,  and,  modified  by  the 
spirit  of  altruism  which  will  come  later,  will 
make  sterling  men  and  noble  women  of  the 
hero-worshippers  of  to-day. 


183 


CHAPTER    VII 

HOW   TO    USE   THESE    EPIC   TALES 

Robin  Hood;  Roland;    The  Cid;   Frithjof;  The   Odyssey; 
King  Arthur;  Rustem;  Beowulf;  Sigurd. 

IN  order  to  do  the  most  effective  work  with 
the  hero  stories  contained  in  these  na- 
tional epics  it  is  better,  under  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances, to  separate  boys  and  girls,  and 
to  remember  that  most  of  these  appeal  in 
a  different  way  to  a  younger  and  older  group 
of  either  boys  or  girls.  The  first  group, — 
fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  grades,  is  interested 
in  adventure,  battle,  and  conquest  for  the 
things  themselves,  and  loves  the  knights  and 
heroes  of  the  adventures  only  as  they  rep- 
resent accomplishment.  They  do  not  see  the 
deeper  meaning  of  chivalry  nor  care  for  its 
romance,  these  are  the  added  concern  of  the 
second  group.  For  this  reason,  the  epics 
where  women  do  not  figure,  or  only  inciden- 
tally, will  be  most  popular  with  the  first 
184 


HOW    TO    USE    THESE    EPIC    TALES 

group,  particularly  if  composed  of  boys, 
and  the  stories  of  deeper  spiritual  signifi- 
cance and  more  romantic  plots  should  be 
reserved  for  the  succeeding  grades. 

It  will  be  evident  that,  following  this  idea, 
the  stories  of  King  Arthur,  as  well  as  others, 
may  be  told  for  either  group,  but  the  selec- 
tion of  the  stories  will  be  somewhat  different, 
as  the  emphasis  is  laid  on  the  heroic  or  the 
spiritual  significance  of  the  epics. 

In  telling  the  Odyssey  or  the  stories  of 
Sigurd,  Frithjof,  or  Siegfried,  it  will  add 
much  to  the  children's  enjoyment,  as  well  as 
to  their  fuller  understanding  of  these  clas- 
sics, if  they  have  already  had  a  series  of 
stories  taken  from  Greek  mythology  in  the 
one  case  and  Norse  in  the  others,  which  will 
have  made  them  familiar  with  the  names  and 
characteristics  of  the  gods  to  whom  refer- 
ence is  so  frequently  made. 

The  stories  which  will  be  recommended  in 
this  chapter  will  include  certain  classic  hero 
tales  which  under  the  narrow  use  of  the  word 
epic  would  be  excluded,  but  which  can  be 
included  under  a  broad  definition.  The  sto- 
ries of  Robin  Hood,  for  example,  do  not  com- 
185 


STORY    TELLING 

pose  an  epic ;  but  the  ballads  about  this  hero 
came  from  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  are 
so  closely  related  that  they  may  be  consid- 
ered as  a  literary  whole. 

The  study  is  in  no  sense  exhaustive,  and 
even  a  change  of  opinion  with  regard  to  the 
suitability  of  certain  classics  for  children 
may  occur  after  the  printing  of  these  pages. 
For  the  present,  the  great  Hindu  poems 
of  "The  Ramayana"  and  "The  Maha- 
Bharata,"  "  The  Kalevala  »  of  Finland,  "  The 
Divine  Comedy  "  from  Italy,  "  The  JEneid  " 
and  the  "Iliad,"  "Paradise  Lost"  and 
"  Jerusalem  Delivered,"  though  ranking  as 
truly  great  epics,  have  not  been  considered, 
because  they  have  treated  of  subjects  which 
were  beyond  the  understanding  or  interest  of 
children,  or  because  the  material  itself  is 
lacking  in  unity,  simplicity,  or  other  quali- 
fications necessary  in  a  story  for  telling. 
There  are,  in  some  cases,  many  versions 
which  might  have  been  suggested  as  "  tell- 
ing "  texts  with  equal  reason,  but  it  has 
seemed  wise,  considering  the  purpose  of  this 
volume,  to  give  one,  or  at  most  two,  books 
from  which  the  story  teller  may  be  able  to 
186 


HOW    TO    USE    THESE    EPIC    TALES 

get  his  material  so  that  he  may  not  find  him- 
self poor  because  of  too  great  wealth. 

No  effort  has  been  made  to  send  the  story 
teller  back  to  the  original  sources  of  the 
stories,  or  to  translations,  because  experi- 
ence has  led  to  the  conviction  that  the  re- 
telling of  the  story,  which  is  most  nearly  like 
the  form  to  be  used  in  the  oral  presentation, 
will  be  the  thing  most  helpful  to  the  unpro- 
fessional story  teller.  To  prepare  the  story 
from  a  translation  requires  the  time,  the  im- 
agination, and  the  skill  in  handling  material 
which  are  the  possession  and  equipment  of 
the  professional. 

Whenever  the  narrator  of  a  story  is  able 
to  add  background  to  his  material  and  get 
the  spirit  of  the  age  and  nation  which  the 
tale  represents  by  reading  translations  and 
related  books,  it  is  much  to  be  desired,  but  it 
is  recognized  that  for  many  people  who  must 
tell  stories  in  schools  and  homes  and  libraries, 
the  time  required  for  this  reading  is  impos- 
sible to  command. 

Some  of  the  stories  which  will  be  outlined 
here  for  use  in  cycles  have  been  fully  worked 
out  and  are  available  in  print  in  separate 
187 


STORY    TELLING 

pamphlets     through     the     courtesy     of     the 
Carnegie  Library  of  Pittsburg. 

ROBIN  HOOD 

Of  the  many  heroes  which  appeal  to  chil- 
dren, there  is  probably  none  who  can  so  easily 
carry  off  the  palm  for  popularity  as  Robin 
Hood.  He  is  no  less  a  favorite  with  girls  than 
with  boys,  and  the  old  ballad  makers,  whoever 
they  were,  met  the  demand  of  the  day  for  a 
story,  a  good  story,  and  one  which  did  not  take 
too  long  in  the  telling,  when  they  sung  these 
ballads  for  the  young  as  well  as  the  old. 

Some  prudish  criticism  occasionally  clam- 
ors for  a  hearing  and  maintains  that  we  are 
upholding  lawlessness  and  robbery  when  we 
make  a  hero  of  an  outlaw,  but  certainly  a 
little  study  of  the  period  and  the  character 
ought  to  destroy  such  a  theory. 

The  adventure  is  pure  adventure;  the 
spirit  of  justice,  which  is  one  of  the  founda- 
tion stones  of  our  civilization,  is  a  striking 
characteristic  of  these  stories.  The  high 
ideals  of  womanhood,  the  spirit  of  helpful- 
ness to  poor  and  needy,  the  resourcefulness, 
the  humor,  the  willingness  to  give  and  take 
188 


HOW   TO    USE    THESE    EPIC    TALES 

in  the  same  open-handed  way,  the  manliness 
in  combat,  all  these  qualities  fit  the  stories  for 
telling,  for  they  are  the  virtues  and  stand- 
ards of  life  which  these 'boys  and  girls  can 
understand  and  approve. 

The  ever  engrossing  activity  pictured  in 
these  stories,  the  atmosphere  of  woods  and 
out-of-doors  which  children  love,  the  exhibi- 
tion of  physical  strength,  the  atmosphere  of 
a  fair  fight  are  subjects  which  represent  the 
normal  interests  of  children. 

If  we  can  add  to  the  telling  of  the  Robin 
Hood  stories  the  reading  of  some  of  the  bal- 
lads after  the  children  know  and  love  this 
hero,  it  will  add  much  to  the  value  of  the 
story  hour. 

There  is  no  prose  rendering  of  the  bal- 
lads which  seems  to  convey  their  spirit,  both 
by  reason  of  the  quaintness  of  the  language 
and  the  masterly  handling  of  the  material  of 
the  story,  as  perfectly  as  Howard  Pyle's 
"  Merry  Adventures  of  Robin  Hood."  It  is 
a  pleasure  to  recommend  this  text  as  the  best 
form  for  the  story  teller's  use,  and  to  sug- 
gest that  he  cannot  do  better  than  to  become 
so  familiar  with  the  words  of  the  author  that 
189 


STORY    TELLING 

many  of  them  will  become  his  own.  If  this 
edition  is  too  expensive  for  the  small  library, 
a  smaller  one  containing  a  portion  of  the 
stories  has  been  issued  under  the  title  "  Some 
Merry  Adventures  of  Robin  Hood." 

The  stories  here  suggested  are  taken  from 
the  large  edition: 

STORIES  FROM  THE  BALLADS  OF  ROBIN  HOOD 

How  Robin  Hood  Became  an  Outlaw  and  how  Little 
John  Joined  his  Band 

PYLE.    Merry  Adventures  of  Robin  Hood,  pp.  1—10 
Robin  Hood's  Adventure  with  the  Tinker 

Same,  pp.  13-22 
The  Sheriff's  Shooting  Match 

Same,  pp.  25-33.     (Shorten  first  two  pages.) 
Robin  Hood  Saves  Will  Stutley's  Life 
*     Same,  pp.  34-44 
The  Sheriff's  Visit  to  Robin  Hood 

Same,  pp.  47-56 
Three  Adventures  of  Robin  Hood 

Same,  pp.  79-112.      (Condense.) 
Robin  Hood  and  Allan  a  Dale 

Same,  pp.  115-27 
Robin  Hood  and  his  Men  Shoot  before  Queen  Eleanor 

Same,  pp.  219-34 
Robin  Hood  and  Guy  of  Gisbourne 

Same,  pp.  255-69 
Death  of  Robin  Hood 

Same,  pp.  289-96 

190 


HOW   TO   USE   THESE    EPIC   TALES 

ROLAND 

The  "  Chanson  de  Roland  "  is  an  epic  set- 
ting forth  a  single  period  in  a  great  hero's 
life,  instead  of  making  a  complete  picture, 
and  for  that  reason  may  be  somewhat  dis- 
appointing to  some  children  who  are  devoted 
to  an  orderly  development  of  their  heroes' 
careers.  The  constant  action  and  the  mar- 
tial subject  of  the  poem  make  it  one  which 
will  appeal  to  the  battle-loving  age.  The 
balance  of  the  story  will  need  changing  for 
the  purpose  of  story  telling,  as  too  great 
stress  is  laid  on  the  events  after  the  hero's 
death  to  make  the  story  effective  and  in  good 
proportion. 

It  will  not  be  necessary  to  try  to  make  a 
connection  between  the  characters  of  the 
story  and  their  historical  counterparts,  but 
the  first  story  may  include  a  few  sentences  by 
way  of  characterization  of  Charlemagne,  such 
as  Baldwin  gives  in  his  "  Story  of  Roland." 

For  a  text  to  be  used  as  a  basis  for  telling 
this  story,  I  would  recommend  either  Mar- 
shall's "Stories  of  Roland,"  in  the  "Told 
to  the  Children  Series,"  or  the  story  as  given 
191 


STORY    TELLING 

by  Ragozin  in  the  volume  on  "  Frith j  of  and 
Roland."  The  divisions  for  the  chapters  in 
the  first  are  more  artistic  and  can  be  relied 
on  more  confidently  for  the  places  to  break 
the  stories  in  telling,  and  its  phraseology  is 
more  careful  and  better  suited  to  an  oral 
presentation. 

The  story  divides  itself  easily  into  five,  or 
at  most  six,  parts,  as  follows: 

STORIES    FROM    THE    CHANSON    DE    ROLAND 

The  Councils  of  the  Kings 

MAESHALL.    Stories  of  Roland,  pp.  1-19 
RAGOZIN.    Frith  j  of  and  Roland,  pp.  147-64 

Ganelon's  Treason 

MARSHALL.    Stories  of  Roland,  pp.  20-37 
RAGOZIN.    Frithjof  and  Roland,  pp.  165-86 

The  Battle  and  the  Sounding  of  the  Horn 
MARSHALL.  Stories  of  Roland,  pp.  38-61 
RAGOZIN.  Frithjof  and  Roland,  pp.  187-215 

The  Death  of  Roland 

MARSHALL.    Stories  of  Roland,  pp.  62-80 
RAGOZIN.     Frithjof  and  Roland,  pp.  216-35 

Roland  Avenged 

MARSHALL.    Stories  of  Roland,  pp.  81-105 
RAGOZIN.     Frithjof  and  Roland,  pp.  187-215 

Ganelon's  Punishment 

MARSHALL.    Stories  of  Roland,  pp.  106-16 
RAGOZIN.    Frithjof  and  Roland 

192 


HOW   TO   USE   THESE    EPIC   TALES 

Baldwin,  in  his  "  Story  of  Roland," 
which  is  excellently  rendered,  has  not  at- 
tempted to  confine  himself  to  the  "  Chanson 
de  Roland,"  but  has  gathered  from  various 
sources  and  nations  the  poems  and  tales 
which  have  Roland  as  their  hero,  and  united 
them  in  one  continuous  story.  It  is  not  the 
epic,  of  course,  but  the  sources  of  his  ma- 
terial are  classic,  and  the  hero  story  which  he 
has  woven  from  the  idealizations  of  many  na- 
tions is  a  splendid  one  to  tell,  and  in  many 
ways  more  interesting  because  of  the  variety. 
The  introduction  of  his  two  famous  compan- 
ions, Oliver  and  Ogier  the  Dane,  will  give 
great  pleasure  and  satisfaction  to  children, 
for  their  spirit  is  worthy  of  the  great  Ro- 
land. A  cycle  of  stories  from  this  collection 
of  Baldwin's  can  be  arranged,  and  while  it 
does  not  cover  all  the  material  of  the  book 
there  is  enough  to  rouse  the  curiosity  of  the 
child,  and  stimulate  him  to  read  the  book  for 
himself. 

STORIES   OF   ROLAND 

Roland's  Boyhood 

BALDWIN.    Story  of  Roland,  pp.  1-33 

193 


STORY   TELLING 

Ogier  the  Dane 

Same,  pp.  47-70 
Ogier  and  Roland  Knighted 

Same,  pp.  70-80 
How  Ogier  Won  Horse  and  Sword 

Same,  pp.  81-96 
Roland's  Arms 

Same,  pp.  97-113 
A  Roland  for  an  Oliver 

Same,  pp.  114-32 
Princess  of  Cathay 

Same,  pp.  175-217 
How  Ogier  Refused  a  Kingdom 

Same,  pp.  240-44 
How  Roland  Slew  the  Sea  Monster 

Same,  pp.  245-54 
A  Contest  for  Durandal 

Same,  pp.  317-28 
How  Roland  Became  his  Own  Shadow 

Same,  pp.  328-43;    pp.  357-60 
The  Treachery  of  Ganelon  and  Roland's  Death 

Same,  pp.  383-400 

Very  little  is  made  of  the  episode  which  is 
the  subject  of  the  "  Song  of  Roland  "  in  this 
arrangement  of  stories,  and  many  of  the  in- 
cidents are  so  connected  with  the  romantic 
side  of  chivalry  that  if  this  cycle  of  stories 
is  used  it  should  be  with  seventh  and  eighth 
grades  rather  than  with  the  younger  children. 


194 


HOW   TO   USE   THESE   EPIC   TALES 


THE  CID 

The  great  Spanish  hero  is  a  military  hero, 
and  the  subject  not  only  of  two  epics  but  of 
ballads  besides.  He  appears  as  a  very  human 
hero  with  many  human  weaknesses,  doubt- 
less the  result  of  the  fact  that  much  of  his 
history  was  recorded  in  epic  form  not  long 
after  his  death,  for  he  was  a  historical  per- 
sonage as  well  as  a  literary  hero. 

But  in  spite  of  his  scheming,  his  desire  to 
secure  much  of  this  world's  goods  for  him- 
self, his  wanton  desertion  of  all  but  those  of 
his  own  faith,  he  is  the  product  of  that  time, 
a  hero  of  the  battle-field  and  of  the  day  when 
"  might  makes  right,"  and  it  was  well  to  find 
a  champion  for  the  right,  strong  and  daring 
enough  to  make  it  might. 

Charles  Sprague  Smith  says: 

"  The  Cid,  a  man  not  of  princely  birth,  through  the 
exercise  of  virtues  which  his  time  esteemed  —  courage 
and  shrewdness  —  had  won  for  himself  from  the  Moors 
an  independent  principality.  Legend  will  have  begun 
to  color  and  transform  his  exploits  already  during  his 
lifetime.  Some  fifty  years  later  he  had  become  the 
favorite  hero  of  popular  songs.  It  is  probable  that 

195 


STORY    TELLING 

these  songs  (cantares)  were  at  first  brief  tales  in  rude 
metrical  form;  and  that  the  epic  poems,  dating  about 
1200,  used  them  as  sources. 

"  The  '  Poem  of  My  Cid '  is  probably  the  earliest 
monument  of  Spanish  literature.  It  is  also  in  our 
opinion  the  noblest  expression,  so  far  as  characters 
are  concerned,  ...  of  the  entire  mediaeval  folk  epic 
of  Europe.  However,  in  its  simplicity,  its  characters 
are  drawn  with  clearness,  firmness,  and  concision,  pre- 
senting a  variety  true  to  nature.  The  spirit  which 
breathes  in  it  is  of  a  noble,  well-rounded  humanity,  a 
fearless,  gentle  courage,  a  manly,  modest  self-reliance; 
an  unswerving  loyalty,  simple  trust  toward  country, 
king,  kinsmen,  and  friends;  a  child-faith  in  God, 
'  slightly  tinged  with  superstition.'  While  based  on 
history,  for  the  Cid  lived  from  about  1045  to  1099, 
this  epic  is  yet  largely  legendary.  *  The  poem  opens 
with  the  departure  of  the  hero  from  Bivar  and  de- 
scribes his  Moorish  campaigns,  culminating  with  his 
conquest  of  Valencia.' " 

A  second  epic,  called  "  The  Chronicle  of 
the  Cid,"  of  a  later  date,  gives  the  main 
story  of  his  life,  but  much  of  it  is  legendary 
and  traditional. 

Southey  has  translated  "  The  Poem  of  My 
Cid,"  "  The  Chronicle  of  the  Cid,"  and  the 
popular  Ballads  or  Romances,  and  united 
them  to  form  one  story.  It  is  this  text  which 
Mr.  Calvin  Dill  Wilson  has  used  as  the  basis 
of  his  book,  "The  Story  of  the  Cid,"  the 
196 


HOW    TO    USE    THESE    EPIC    TALES 

most  complete  version  of  the  epic  which  has 
been  prepared  for  children's  use. 

It  was  my  good  fortune,  when  a  child,  to 
hear  Mr.  Smith  tell  the  story  of  the  Cid,  the 
thrill  and  daring  of  whose  spirit  so  fasci- 
nated me  that  it  would  seen  an  experience 
worth  giving  to  every  child. 

The  text  of  Wilson's  "  Story  of  the  Cid  " 
is  given  as  the  one  to  be  used  for  telling  the 
story  because  it  is  practically  the  only  one 
available;  but  it  will  require  a  good  deal  of 
skill  on  the  part  of  the  story  teller  to  handle 
the  material  in  a  manner  necessary  for  an 
artistic  rendering  of  the  epic,  because  of  the 
multiplicity  of  incidents  and  the  constant 
changes  of  central  theme. 

As  the  epic  is  essentially  military  in  char- 
acter, it  is  wise  to  minimize  the  feminine  ele- 
ment whenever  it  appears,  and  keep  the  cycle 
one  of  battle-field  adventures. 

STORIES    OF    THE    CID 

How  Rodrigo  Avenged  his  Father  and  Saw  a  Leper 
WILSON.     Story  of  the   Cid,   pp.   1-35 

(Make  a  short  introduction  giving  explanation 
of  political  conditions  in  Spain  and  the  claimants 
to  the  throne.) 

197 


STORY    TELLING 

How  Rodrigo  was  Knighted  and  Received  the  Name 

of  "The  Cid" 
Same,  pp.  35-42 

Death  of  the  King  and  Division  of  the  Kingdom 
Same,  pp.  43-71 

(Shorten  the  division  of  the  Kingdom  as  much 
as  possible  and  make  more  of  the  siege  of  Zamora 
and  its  results.) 
Banishment  of  the  Cid 

Same,  pp.  72-87 
The  Cid's  Successes  in  the  Land  of  the  Moors 

Same,  pp.  88-99 

The  Cid  Returns  to  the  Aid  of  the  King 
Same,  pp.  113-29 

(Condense  Chapter  IX  into  two  or  three  sen- 
tences, giving  the  conditions  of  his  return.) 
Siege  and  Capture  of  Valencia 

Same,  pp.  131-66 
How  the  Cid  Lived  and  Ruled  in  Valencia 

Same,  pp.  166-92 
How  the  Cid  Gave  his  Daughters  in  Marriage 

Same,  pp.  208-18 

The  Cowardice  of  his  Sons-in-law  and  their  Punish- 
ment 

Same,  pp.  218-72.      (Condense.) 
The  Combat 

Same,  pp.  278-86 

Death  of  the  Cid  and  Honors  Paid  him 
Same,  pp.  297-313 


198 


HOW   TO   USE   THESE   EPIC   TALES 

FEITHJOP 

(Pronounced  Free4i-o/ ) 

Like  the  Robin  Hood  ballads,  we  cannot 
technically  class  the  Frithjof  Saga  with  epic 
literature;  yet,  like  those  ballads,  the  saga 
sprung  from  the  heart  of  the  people,  and 
represents  the  Norse  life  before  the  introduc- 
tion of  Christianity  as  truly  as  any  epic.  It 
has  many  of  the  characteristics  of  the  epic 
in  its  national  drawing,  its  central  hero,  its 
elements  of  unrest  and  craving  for  adventure ; 
and  its  race  spirit  is  so  strong  that,  when 
the  Swedish  national  poet,  Esaias  Tegner, 
clothed  it  in  poetic  form,  it  made  a  place  for 
itself  at  once  almost  as  an  epic  of  that  coun- 
try. Longfellow  has  given  us  a  translation 
of  his  work,  Magnusson  and  Morris  a  trans- 
lation of  the  saga,  and  both  will  do  much  to 
make  the  story  teller  feel  in  sympathy  with 
the  Icelandic  atmosphere. 

The  saga  must  be  told  with  great  care  to 
preserve  the  marks  of  its  origin,  the  feelings 
and  customs  of  the  land  of  its  birth,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  emphasize  the  stirring  ad- 
venture rather  than  the  romance,  for  this  is 
199 


STORY    TELLING 

one  of  the  hero  stories  where  there  is  a 
heroine  as  well  as  a  hero. 

The  development  of  the  hero's  character, 
his  devotion  to  his  word,  his  loyalty  to  his 
friends,  and  his  willingness  to  atone  for  the 
wrong  of  his  youth,  make  him  a  worthy  sub- 
ject for  a  great  hero  tale. 

Ragozin's  "Frithjof  "  may  be  used  as  a 
text  book  for  preparing  the  narrative,  and 
an  arrangement  of  eight  stories  will  cover  the 
ground  of  the  saga. 

STORIES    OF    FRITHJOF 

Frithjof s  Youth  and  Meeting  with  Ingeborg 
RAGOZIN,  Frithjof,  pp.  3-32 

( Condense  Chapter  I ;  in  Chapter  II,  quote  ad- 
vice of  the  King,  "  Graciousness  becomes  a  king 
as  flower-wreaths  a  shield;  and  a  spring's  mild 
breath  opens  the  earth,  which  wintry  frost  but 
hardens.  Choose  one  to  trust,  and  look  not  for 
another;  for  what  is  known  to  three  will  soon 
be  known  to  all."  Also,  advice  of  {Thorsten, 
"Frithjof,  turn  thee  from  evil,  bend  thy  will  to 
what  is  good  and  noble,  and  do  right.  Thus  wilt 
thou  not  have  lived  in  vain."  Bring  out  only 
striking  characteristics  of  the  heirlooms,  p.  17, 
foot  of  pp.  18-19;  omit  pp.  20-22.  Condense 
pp.  27-29  into  two  or  three  sentences  and  begin 
last  paragraph  p.  29,  making  a  statement  simply 
that  he  asked  for  her  hand. ) 

£00 


HOW   TO   USE   THESE    EPIC   TALES 

King  Ring 

Same,  pp.  33-42 
The  Departure 
Same,  pp.  43-62 

(Touch  very  delicately  on  the  scene  in  Balder  Js 
grove;    make  strong  point  of  his  loyalty  to  his 
word:    "  I  would  not  buy  Valhalla's  joys  by  a  lie, 
certainly  not  those  of  earth.") 
The  Open  Seas 

Same,  pp.  63-79 
Frithjof's  Return 

Same,  pp.  79-91 

Frithjof  the  Viking  at  King  Ring's  Court 
Same,  pp.  92-110 

(Children    will    enjoy    the    Viking's    Code,    pp. 
95-6.) 
Frithjof's  Test 

Same,  pp.  108-21 
The  Atonement 
Same,  pp.  122-39 

THE  ODYSSEY 

The  presentation  of  the  Odyssey,  as  has 
already  been  suggested,  will  gain  very  much 
if  it  follows  a  course  in  Greek  mythological 
stories.  There  may  be  some  who  will  feel 
that  it  should  also  be  preceded  by  the  stories 
from  the  Iliad,  but  this  does  not  seem  neces- 
sary, at  least  in  any  detailed  fashion.  The 
Iliad  requires  the  grasp  of  the  mature  mind 


STORY    TELLING 

to  give  it  the  unity  which  makes  the  story 
convincing,  and  its  theme,  warlike  though  it 
is,  yet  has  a  cause  so  outside  the  experience 
of  children  that  they  are  confused  by  its 
intricacies,  and  their  sympathies  are  divided 
between  victor  and  vanquished.  The  devel- 
opment of  the  plot  is  too  retarded,  and  the 
action  too  slow  to  arouse  their  enthusiasm 
for  the  epic  as  a  whole.  It  would  seem  wiser 
to  use  it  as  a  source  for  incidental  stories,  or 
not  to  consider  it  at  all  before  the  high 
school,  except  as  a  background  for  the  story 
of  Ulysses.  James  Baldwin  has  given  a 
splendid>  introduction  to  the  Odyssey  in  his 
"  Story  of  the  Golden  Age,"  and  it  might  be 
a  very  desirable  thing  under  some  conditions 
to  tell  a  group  of  stories  selected  from  that 
volume,  before  beginning  the  Odyssey. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see  why  this  great 
story  of  adventure  is  so  popular  with  the 
children  who  know  it,  for  while  the  motive 
of  Ulysses'  return  home  gives  continuity  to 
the  cycle,  the  adventures  are  very  adaptable 
for  short  stories,  and  their  grotesque  and 
humorous  character  is  exactly  suited  to  the 
child's  point  of  view.  Ulysses,  too,  has  qual- 


HOW   TO   USE   THESE    EPIC   TALES 

ities  which  mark  him  as  the  child's  hero; 
his  great  strength  itself  is  convincing,  and, 
coupled  with  that,  his  activity,  his  readiness 
and  ability  to  undertake  and  conquer  any 
difficulty,  his  inventiveness  and  resourceful- 
ness, his  daring  and  dexterity  in  battle  or 
personal  combat,  his  love  of  home,  endear 
him  to  children's  hearts. 

This  is  one  of  the  places  where  we  have 
such  an  excellent  translation  of  the  original 
in  Professor  George  Herbert  Palmer's  "  The 
Odyssey  of  Homer,"  that  it  seems  almost 
unnecessary  to  suggest  any  adaptation  for 
our  purpose.  There  are  several  authors  who 
have  done  very  excellent  work  in  preparing 
versions  of  the  Odyssey  for  children's  read- 
ing, but  the  new  edition  of  Mr.  Church's 
work,  "  The  Odyssey  for  Boys  and  Girls," 
is  on  the  whole  the  most  satisfactory  for  the 
story  teller. 

STORIES    FROM    THE    ODYSSEY 

Adventures  of  Ulysses  with  the  Cyclops 

CHURCH.    Odyssey  for  Boys  and  Girls,  pp.  15-30 

(This  gives  in  a  few  words  of  explanation  the 
situation  to  the  close  of  the  Trojan  War.) 
PALMER.    Odyssey  of  Homer,  pp.  130-46 

203 


STORY    TELLING 

The  Adventure  at  the  Home  of  the  Winds  and  the 
Palace  of  Circe 

CHURCH,  pp.  33-45 

PALMER,  pp.  147-64 
The  Sirens  and  the  Monsters  Scylla  and  Charybdis 

CHURCH,  pp.  49-62 

PALMER,  pp.  185-98 
What  Happened  in  Ithaca  and  the  Search  for  Ulysses 

CHURCH,  pp.  67-128.     (Condense.) 

PALMER,  pp.  1-71.     (Condense.) 
An  Island  Prison  and  a  Shipwreck 

CHURCH,  pp.  63,  131-41 

PALMER,  pp.  72-87 
Ulysses  Finds  a  Princess  Washing  Clothes 

CHURCH,  pp.  145-56 

PALMER,  pp.  88-98 
Ulysses  at  the  Court  of  Alcinous 

CHURCH,  pp.  159-76 

PALMER,  pp.  99-128 
Ulysses'  Welcome  at  Ithaca 

CHURCH,  pp.  179-211 

PALMER,  pp.  199-262.     (Condense.) 
Ulysses  at  Home 

CHURCH,  pp.  215-52.     (Condense.) 

PALMER,  pp.  262-327.      (Condense.) 
Trial  by  Bow 

CHURCH,  pp.  255-77 

PALMER,  pp.  328-57 
The  End  of  a  Hero's  Adventures 

CHURCH,  pp.  281-308 

PALMER,  pp.  358-87 


204 


HOW    TO    USE    THESE    EPIC    TALES 

KING  ARTHUR 

The  story  of  King  Arthur  has  been  told 
so  many  times  and  in  so  many  languages  that 
it  can  scarcely  be  said  to  belong  to  any 
nation  exclusively,  nor  to  represent  the  epic 
in  its  technical  sense,  yet  no  group  of  hero 
stories  would  be  complete  without  it.  Mal- 
ory's "  Morte  D'Arthur  "  is  far  too  long  to 
be  covered  in  a  single  cycle  of  stories,  and 
it  is  an  illustration  of  material  which  can  be 
told  to  bring  out  the  side  of  adventure  and 
battle,  or  the  romance  and  ethical  signifi- 
cance of  chivalry,  as  Tennyson  has  done  in 
"  The  Idyls  of  the  King." 

The  King  Arthur  story  is  difficult  to  han- 
dle because,  while  it  bears  the  name  of  a  sin- 
gle hero,  it  really  embraces  cycles  of  stories 
within  a  cycle,  each  with  a  hero  who  is  for 
the  time  an  absorbing  interest.  For  this  rea- 
son it  would  be  well,  perhaps,  for  the  story 
teller,  after  a  few  stories  concerning  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  Round  Table,  to  choose 
the  stories  which  concern  some  one  hero,  and 
tell  a  group  about  Launcelot,  Percival,  Mer- 
lin (who  is  a  very  fascinating  character  to 
205 


STORY    TELLING 

most  children),  Tristram,  or  Galahad  and 
the  Grail  story. 

There  are  a  few  stories  which  present 
single  adventures  of  different  knights,  and 
these,  with  the  incidents  connected  with  Ar- 
thur's boyhood  and  the  beginning  of  the 
Round  Table,  will  serve  to  give  a  general  idea 
of  the  character  of  the  Morte  D'Arthur  as 
a  whole. 

For  such  a  purpose  Macleod's  "  King 
Arthur  and  his  Noble  Knights  "  offers  either 
a  very  good  text  for  the  story  teller,  or  a 
book  which  is  easily  read  by  the  children 
themselves. 

Radf  ord's  "  King  Arthur  and  his  Knights  " 
has  an  introductory  chapter  which  is  valuable 
because  it  gives  a  good  picture  of  the  condi- 
tions of  chivalry,  which  ought  to  be  familiar 
to  the  child  before  he  can  really  enjoy  the 
stories,  and  is  a  simple  version  of  the  story  as 
well. 

If  the  story  teller  can  obtain  Sidney  Lan- 
ier's  "  Boy's  King  Arthur,"  or  Howard 
Pyle's  three  volumes,  "  King  Arthur  and 
his  Knights,"  "  The  Champions  of  the 
Round  Table,"  and  "  The  Story  of  Launce- 
206 


HOW  TO  USE  THESE  EPIC  TALES 

lot  and  his  Companions,"  they  will  be  a 
great  help  and  inspiration,  besides  giving  him 
very  successfully  the  atmosphere  of  the 
original. 

The  interest  which  the  picture  of  Sir  Gal- 
ahad by  Watts  and  the  series  of  paintings 
in  the  Boston  Public  Library  of  the  Grail 
story  have  roused  in  many  children  as  well 
as  older  people,  creates  a  desire  to  know  the 
continuous  story  of  Sir  Galahad  and  his 
quest  for  the  Holy  Grail;  and  such  a  series 
of  stories  may  be  taken  from  the  book  of 
Mary  Blackwell  Sterling,  called  "  The  Story 
of  Sir  Galahad." 

Perhaps  no  epic,  if  epic  we  call  it,  offers 
so  great  an  opportunity  to  combine  the 
charm  of  adventure  with  high  ideals  as  do 
these  King  Arthur  stories.  The  standards 
set  of  loyalty,  obedience,  devotion  to  high 
causes,  purity,  strength,  and  courage  which 
must  always  protect  the  weak  and  needy, 
manliness  and  justice,  faithfulness  to  trust 
and  to  honor  —  these  are  virtues  which  are 
ideals  for  every  boy  and  every  girl  as  well 
as  every  man  and  woman. 

Mr.  Howard  Pyle  has  expressed  the  in- 
207 


STORY   TELLING 

spiration  which  this  great  work  has  for  us 
all  in  his  foreword  to  the  "  Story  of  King 
Arthur."  "For  when,  in  pursuing  this  his- 
tory, I  have  come  to  consider  the  high  nobil- 
ity of  spirit  that  moved  these  excellent  men 
to  act  as  they  did,  I  have  felt  that  they  have 
afforded  such  a  perfect  example  of  courage 
and  humility  that  anyone  might  do  exceed- 
ingly well  to  follow  after  their  manner  of 
behavior  in  such  measure  as  he  is  able 
to  do." 

"For  I  believe  that  King  Arthur  was  the 
most  honorable,  gentle  knight  who  ever  lived 
in  all  the  world.  And  those  who  were  his 
fellows  of  the  Round  Table  —  taking  him  as 
their  looking-glass  of  chivalry  —  made,  al- 
together, such  a  company  of  noble  knights 
that  it  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  their 
like  will  ever  be  seen  again  in  this  world. 
Wherefore  it  is  that  I  have  such  extraordi- 
nary pleasure  in  beholding  how  those  famous 
knights  behaved  whenever  circumstances 
called  upon  them  to  perform  their  en- 
deavor." 


208 


HOW   TO   USE   THESE   EPIC   TALES 


KING   ARTHUR 

How  Arthur  Became  King  and  how  he  Won  his  Sword 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur  and  his  Noble  Knights,  pp. 
1-13,  21-30 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur  and  his  Knights,  pp.  11-25, 

29-34 
A  Great  Feast  and  a  Great  Battle 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  14-21 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  85-48 
The  Marriage  of  Guinevere  and  King  Arthur  and  the 
Founding  of  the  Round  Table 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  31-35 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  49-72 
King  Arthur  and  Sir  Accalon 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  35-55 

RADFORD.     King  Arthur,  pp.  142-52 
How  King  Arthur  Fought  with  a  Giant 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  55-63 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  152-59 
Sir  Brune 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  171-92 
Sir  Ivaine 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  99-119 
Sir  Balin 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  120-30 
Sir  Gareth  the  "  Kitchen  Boy  " 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  101-43 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  73-98 
Adventure  of  Sir  Geraint  and  the  Fair  Enid 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  131-41 

209 


STORY    TELLING 

Sir  Launcelot  and  his  Friends 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  63-89,  96-101 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  199-212 
Sir  Tristram 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  143-67 
How  Sir  Tristram  Came  to  Camelot 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  168-78 
The  Quest  of  the  Holy  Grail 

MACLEOD.      King    Arthur,    pp.    292-354.       (Divide 
into  at  least  two  stories.) 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  243-59 
Death  of  King  Arthur 

MACLEOD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  368-83 

RADFORD.    King  Arthur,  pp.  260-68 

There  are  many  other  selections  which  are 
perhaps  equally  good,  but  these  concern 
themselves  more  with  the  activities  of  the 
knights,  and  so  are  of  special  interest  as 
introductory  stories  for  fifth,  sixth,  and  even 
seventh  grades. 

Many  of  the  adventures  of  Tristram  are 
full  of  the  story  of  La  Belle  Iseult,  many  of 
those  relating  to  Sir  Launcelot  have  to  do 
with  Guinevere,  such  as  "  How  Launcelot 
Saved  the  Queen,"  or  they  are  very  romantic 
in  character,  like  that  of  "  Launcelot  and 
the  Lily-maid  of  Astolat,"  and  for  that  rea- 
son will  be  found  to  be  vastly  more  accept- 
210 


HOW  TO  USE  THESE  EPIC  TALES 

able  to  the  older  children.  It  has  been  my 
experience  that  the  younger  boys  and  girls 
rather  resent  the  introduction  of  Vivien  and 
Morgan  le  Fay  into  the  stories,  and  prefer 
to  skip  the  tales  in  which  they  figure. 

Leon  Gautier's  "  Chivalry,"  translated  by 
Henry  Frith,  will  be  very  helpful  to  the 
story  teller  for  the  purpose  of  acquainting 
himself  with  the  costumes,  manners,  and 
customs  of  the  days  of  chivalry.  The 
more  familiar  one  is  with  armor,  battlements, 
moats,  and  drawbridges,  the  easier  it  is  to 
have  a  clear  mental  picture  as  one  tells  the 
story,  and  the  easier  it  will  be  to  make  a 
vivid  and  realistic  picture  in  the  mind  of  the 
listener. 

As  we  made  use  of  the  ballads  in  the  story- 
hour  devoted  to  Robin  Hood,  so  it  would 
seem  a  happy  thing  to  associate  the  poetry 
of  Tennyson  with  these  stories.  This  is  not 
at  all  difficult  to  do,  for  the  swing  of  the  lines 
makes  them  seem  almost  like  the  beat  of 
horses'  hoofs,  or  the  clang  of  armor. 

What  boy  or  girl  is  there  who  will  not 
delight  to  hear  — 


STORY    TELLING 

"  Strike  for  the  King  and  die!     And  if  thou  diest, 
The  King  is  king,  and  ever  wills  the  highest, 
Clang  battleaxe   and  clash  brand!      Let  the  King 
reign. 

The  King  will  follow  Christ,  and  we  the  King, 
In  whom  high  God  hath  breathed  a  secret  thing, 
Fall   battleaxe,    and   flash   brand!      Let   the   King 
reign." 

I  shall  never  forget  the  face  of  one  lad 
who  had  learned  what  knighthood  really 
meant  in  the  conquest  of  himself,  as  he  rose 
one  day  and  told  the  story  of  the  Round 
Table  and  closed  by  repeating  the  oath 
which  the  knights  made. 

"To  reverence  the  King,  as  if  he  were 
Their  conscience,  and  their  conscience  as  their  King, 
To  break  the  heathen  and  uphold  the  Christ, 
To  ride  abroad  redressing  human  wrongs, 
To  speak  no  slander,  no,  nor  listen  to  it, 
To  lead  sweet  lives  in  purest  chastity." 


RlJSTEM 

(Pronounced  Roo-stem) 

One  of  the  great  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  an  acquaintance  with  literature  is  the 
familiarity  with  places,  the  customs  of  the 


HOW   TO   USE   THESE    EPIC   TALES 

people,  and  their  manner  of  expressing 
themselves  which  great  books  are  sure  to  give. 
For  this  reason  a  child  unconsciously  gains 
more  than  the  joy  of  the  story  from  a  read- 
ing of  the  Arabian  Nights,  and  great  care 
ought  to  be  taken  in  the  selection  of  the  ver- 
sions of  the  classics  which  are  given  to  chil- 
dren, to  make  sure  that  they  preserve  the 
atmosphere  of  the  story  as  well  as  a  merely 
accurate  recital  of  the  incidents  of  the  plot. 

Some  people  tell  a  story,  Norse  or  In- 
dian, Greek  or  Persian,  with  exactly  the  same 
style  and  use  of  language,  and  the  result  is 
a  definite  loss  to  the  hearer. 

It  is  a  great  pity  if  a  child  is  limited  in 
his  reading  to  the  works  of  one  nation,  and 
is  not  allowed  to  become  acquainted  with  a 
wide  variety  of  literatures,  and  to  feel  the 
difference  in  the  point  of  view  of  the  Occi- 
dent and  the  Orient,  the  familiar  character- 
istics of  grotesqueness  and  strength  in  the 
literature  of  the  North,  the  subtle  humor  and 
beauty  of  the  German  legends,  the  persistent 
note  of  tragedy  in  the  stories  of  Japan,  and 
so  to  possess  himself  of  his  literary  inher- 
itance. 

313 


STORY    TELLING 

It  is  fortunate  that  recently  there  have 
been  published  two  books  giving  the  great 
Persian  epic  Shah-Nameh  in  versions  for 
children.  One  of  them,  "  The  Story  of 
Rustem,"  by  Elizabeth  Renninger,  is  the 
outcome  of  her  own  use  of  the  stories  in  a 
boys'  club  of  the  Bushwick  Branch  of  the 
Brooklyn  Public  Library;  and  the  other  is 
E.  M.  Wilmot-Buxton's  "  Stories  of  Per- 
sian Heroes."  Both  books  present  the  story 
in  an  admirable  manner,  but  Miss  Rennin- 
ger's  conforms  more  nearly  to  the  style  and 
language  of  the  Oriental  story  teller.  Long 
descriptions  and  epithets  keep  one  constantly 
in  touch  with  the  "  feeling  "  which  the  orig- 
inal has ;  and  the  conversation,  with  its 
compliment  and  inevitable  flattery  and  cir- 
cuitous mode  of  expression,  is  a  constant  re- 
minder that  the  listener  is  in  the  East,  where 
there  is  no  haste  and  where  a  story  must 
never  be  allowed  to  suffer  by  thoughtless 
condensation. 

The  book  as  it  stands  will  be  rather  long 
for  the  average  time  which  can  be  given  to 
a  single  cycle  of  stories,  as  there  are  twenty- 
two  stories  in  all,  but  there  is  enough  variety 
214 


HOW    TO   USE    THESE    EPIC   TALES 

in  the  stories  so  that  they  would  be  interest- 
ing for  two  courses ;  and  if  they  were  used 
in  this  way  the  book  as  it  stands  is  very  well 
suited  to  the  needs  of  the  story  teller. 

The  stories  which  are  directly  connected 
with  Rustem  have  been  used  with  seventh  and 
eighth  grades,  and  with  high  school  pupils, 
and  I  have  found  they  were  delighted  with 
them.  The  detail  and  description  which 
would  be  tiresome  to  younger  children  has  a 
charm  of  its  own  for  these  older  ones,  but 
the  stories  as  given  in  print  will  have  to  be 
condensed  somewhat  for  telling,  in  almost 
every  case. 

STORIES   OF   RUSTEM 

Rustem,  the  Wonder  Child 

RENNINQER.    The  Story  of  Rustem,  pp.  83-94 
Rustem,  the  Young  Warrior 

Same,  pp.  95-119 
Seven  Labors  of  Rustem 

Same,  pp.  120-60.     (Condense.) 
Rustem  the  Pehliva 

Same,  pp.  161-74.     (Omit  Rustem's  romance.) 
Sohrab  the  Youth 

Same,  pp.  193-212.     (Condense.) 
Wrath  of  Rustem 

Same,  pp.  212-29 

215 


STORY    TELLING 

Combat  of  Sohrab  against  Rustem 

Same,  pp.  230-57 
How  Rustem  Trained  Siawush  and  Avenged  him 

Same,  pp.  259-78 
Later  Feats  of  Rustem 

Same,  pp.  302-23 
Story  of  Isfendiyar 

Same,  pp.  324-54 
Death  of  Rustem 

Same,  pp.  355-61 

BEOWULF 
( Pronounced  Ba'-  o-wulf ) 

In  the  preface  to  the  translation  of  the 
Volsunga  Saga  by  Magnusson  and  Morris, 
these  words  are  found :  "  May  it  no  longer 
be  said  to  our  shame,  that  Americans,  Ger- 
mans, and  Englishmen  hold  in  higher  es- 
teem the  story  of  Greek,  Roman,  or  Persian 
conquerors,  the  deeds  of  alien  people,  than 
the  heroism,  the  mythology,  the  poetic 
grandeur  of  our  ancient  Gothic  forebears, 
whose  language,  fables,  nursery-tales  and 
minstrelsy  are  inseparable  components  of  our 
literature,  our  laws,  and  our  liberties." 

The  great  Anglo-Saxon  epic  Beowulf  is 
one  of  the  possessions  which  thus  peculiarly 
216 


HOW   TO   USE    THESE    EPIC   TALES 

belong  to  us,  and  which  we  cherish  on  this 
account,  as  well  as  because  it  has  those 
wonderful  qualities  of  freshness  and  action, 
unspoiled  by  the  taint  of  complicated  civiliza- 
tions. It  gives  to  us  just  that  sense  of  free- 
dom which  we  breathe  in  with  such  joy  when 
we  run  away  from  the  city  on  a  spring  morn- 
ing and  find  that  the  tonic  of  the  air  in 
crowded  streets  was  after  all  but  a  poor  im- 
itation of  what  it  is  under  the  trees  of  real 
country  lanes.  The  hero  who  so  willingly 
offers  himself  to  rid  a  people  of  its  demon 
enemy,  whether  symbolic  as  some  claim,  is 
one  whose  spirit  should  be  cultivated  in  the 
Anglo-Saxon  of  this  present  day. 

It  is  so  short  that  it  is  almost  possible  to 
tell  it  in  a  single  story,  but  that  requires  a 
condensation  which  robs  it  of  some  of  its 
picturesqueness  and  portrayal  of  life  in 
those  early  days.  The  style  of  the  original 
is  very  concise  and  should  receive  a  little 
elaboration  for  a  telling  version.  Marshall's 
"  Stories  of  Beowulf,"  or  Ragozin's  "  Sieg- 
fried and  Beowulf,"  have  been  selected  as 
the  foundation  for  this  series  of  stories. 

817 


STORY    TELLING 

STORIES    FROM    BEOWULF 

Beowulf  Comes  to  Daneland 

RAGOZIN.    Siegfried  and  Beowulf,  pp.  219-44 

MARSHALL.    Stories  of  Beowulf,  pp.  1-33 
The  Combat  with  Grendel 

RAGOZIN,  pp.  244-59 

MARSHALL,  pp.  35-46 
Grendel  Avenged 

RAGOZIN,  pp.  259-74 

MARSHALL,  pp.  46-62 
Beowulf's  Return  to  his  Own  Land 

RAGOZIN,  pp.  275-93 

MARSHALL,  pp.  63-75 
Beowulf's  Victory  and  Death 

RAGOZIN,  pp.  294-322.     (Condense  pp.  312-22  to  a 
few  sentences.) 

MARSHALL,  pp.  76-114.     (Condense  pp.  103-14  to  a 
few  sentences.) 

SlGUED 

Last  of  all  our  epic  tales  to  be  considered 
are  the  Volsunga  Saga  of  Iceland,  and  the 
Nibelungenlied  of  Germany.  Very  little  has 
been  done  to  give  these  great  works  to  chil- 
dren, though  many  writers  have  concerned 
themselves  with  telling  the  story  as  Wagner 
composed  it  as  a  background  for  his  music. 
He  drew  from  the  Icelandic  and  the  German 


HOW   TO   USE   THESE   EPIC   TALES 

versions  of  the  story,  and  made  one  in  many 
ways  quite  his  own ;  Chapin  in  "  The  Story 
of  the  Rhinegold,"  Frost  in  the  "  Wagner 
Story  Book,"  Barber  in  the  "  Wagner  Op- 
era Stories,"  McSpadden  in  the  "  Stories 
from  Wagner,"  and  many  others  have  given 
this  story  as  Wagner  told  it;  but  that  is 
neither  the  Saga  nor  the  Nibelungenlied. 

It  seems  wise  to  know  our  literature  before 
we  know  our  music  story,  since  the  latter 
really  is  indebted  to  the  former,  and  is  of  a 
character  to  appeal  to  the  adolescent  rather 
than  the  child.  Both  the  Wagner  story  and 
the  Nibelungenlied  are  much  better  suited  to 
the  period  which  is  marked  by  a  beginning 
of  the  interest  in  romance,  for  they  are  lack- 
ing in  the  simpler,  sterner  qualities  of  the 
Norse  story. 

The  Volsunga  Saga  was  composed  prob- 
ably sometime  during  the  twelfth  century 
"  from  floating  traditions,  from  songs  which, 
now  lost,  were  then  known,  at  least  in 
fragments,  to  the  saga-man ;  and  finally 
from  songs,  which,  written  down  about  that 
time  are  still  existing  "  in  the  Elder  Edda. 

Sparling  says,  in  the  introduction  of  the 
219 


STORY    TELLING 

translation  of  the  Volsunga  Saga  by  Eirikr 
Magnusson  and  William  Morris: 

"  Every  people  find  some  one  means  of  expression 
which  more  than  all  else  suits  their  mood  or  powers, 
and  this  the  Icelanders  found  in  the  saga.  This  was 
the  life  of  a  hero  told  in  prose,,  but  in  set  form,  after 
a  regular  fashion  that  unconsciously  complied  with 
all  epical  requirements  but  that  of  verse  —  a  simple 
plot,  events  in  order  of  time,  set  phrases  for  even  the 
shifting  emotions  or  changeful  fortune  of  a  fight  or 
a  storm,  and  careful  avoidance  of  digression,  comment, 
or  putting  forward  by  the  narrator  of  aught  but  the 
theme  he  has  in  hand;  he  himself  is  never  seen. 

"  In  very  truth  the  saga  is  a  prose  epic,  and  marked 
by  every  quality  an  epic  should  possess.  Where  the 
saga,  as  this  one  of  the  Volsungs,  is  founded  upon  the 
debris  of  songs  and  poems,  even  the  very  old  tales  of 
mythological  heroes,  of  men  quite  removed  from  the 
personal  knowledge  of  the  narrator,  yet  the  story  is 
so  inwound  with  the  traditions  of  his  race,  is  so  much 
a  part  of  his  thought-life,  that  every  actor  in  it  has 
for  him  a  real  existence.  At  the  feast  or  gathering, 
or  by  the  fireside,  as  men  made  nets  and  women  spun, 
these  tales  were  told  over;  in  their  frequent  repeti- 
tion, by  men  who  believed  them,  though  incident  or 
sequence  underwent  no  change,  they  would  become 
closer  knit,  more  coherent,  and  each  an  organic  whole. 
Gradually  they  would  take  a  regular  and  accepted 
form,  which  would  ease  the  strain  upon  the  reciter's 
memory  and  leave  his  mind  free  to  adorn  the  story  with 
fair  devices,  that  again  gave  help  in  making  it  easier 
to  remember,  and  these  aided  in  its  presentation." 

220 


HOW  TO  USE  THESE  EPIC  TALES 

"  Of  all  the  stories  kept  in  being  by  the  saga-tellers 
and  left  for  our  delight,  there  is  none  that  so  epito- 
mises human  experience;  has  within  so  much  of  na- 
ture and  of  life;  so  fully  expresses  the  temper  and 
genius  of  the  Northern  folk  as  that  of  the  Volsungs 
and  the  Nibelungs,  which  has  in  varied  shapes  entered 
into  the  literature  of  many  lands.  In  the  beginning 
there  is  no  doubt  that  the  story  belonged  to  the  com- 
mon ancestral  folk  of  all  the  Teutonic  or  Scando- 
Gothic  peoples  in  the  earliest  days  of  their  wander- 
ings. The  oldest  shape  in  which  we  have  it  is  in  the 
Eddaic  poems,  some  of  which  date  from  unnumbered 
generations  before  the  time  to  which  most  of  them  are 
ascribed,  the  time  of  the  Viking  kingdoms  in  the 
Western-Isles.  Of  the  Eddaic  songs  only  fragments 
now  remain,  but  ere  they  perished  there  arose  from 
them  a  saga,"  i.  e.,  the  Volsung  Saga.  "  The  so-called 
Anglo-Saxons  brought  part  of  the  story  to  England 
in  Beowulf,  in  which  also  appear  some  incidents  that 
are  again  given  in  the  Icelandic  saga  of  Grettier  the 
Strong.  Most  widely  human  is  the  form  taken  by 
the  story  in  the  hands  of  an  unknown  mediaeval  Ger- 
man poet,  who,  from  the  broken  ballads  then  surviv- 
ing, wrote  the  Nibelungenlied. 

"The  whole  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  story  has 
disappeared,  and  though  Siegfried  (Sigurd)  has  slain 
a  dragon,  there  is  nothing  to  connect  it  with  the  fate 
that  follows  the  treasure ;  Andvari,  the  Volsungs,  Faf- 
ner,  and  Regin  are  all  forgotten;  the  mythological 
features  have  become  faint,  and  the  general  air  of 
the  whole  is  that  of  mediaeval  romance.  The  curse  of 
Andvari,  which  in  the  saga  is  grimly  real,  working 
itself  out  with  slow,  sure  steps  that  no  form  of  god 


STORY    TELLING 

or  man  can  turn  aside,  in  the  mediaeval  poem  is  but 
mere  scenic  effect  .  .  .  that  has  no  obvious  relation 
to  the  working  out  of  the  plot,  or  fulfilment  of  their 
destiny  by  the  different  characters.  Brynhild  loses  a 
great  deal  and  is  a  poor  creature  when  compared  with 
herself  in  the  saga;  Grimheld  and  the  fateful  drink 
have  gone  .  .  .  but  Sigurd  (Siegfried),  the  central 
figure,  although  he  has  lost  by  the  omission  of  so 
much  of  his  life,  is,  as  before,  the  embodiment  of  all 
the  virtues  that  were  so  dear  to  Northern  hearts. 
Brave,  strong,  generous,  dignified,  and  utterly  truth- 
ful, he  moves  amid  a  tangle  of  tragic  events,  over- 
mastered by  a  mighty  fate  and  in  life  or  death  is  still 
a  hero  without  stain  or  flaw." 

Certain  it  is  that,  though  this  story  is 
marked  by  motives  and  passions  of  the  time 
before  Christianity  had  softened  men's 
hearts,  it  presents  to  us  a  people  valorous, 
liberty-loving,  intellectual  and  civil,  whose 
speech  and  laws  and  customs  have  influenced 
our  own  to  a  remarkable  degree. 

If  it  seems  desirable  to  give  the  story  as 
the  German  people  told  it,  a  good  text  will 
be  found  in  Ragozin's  "  Siegfried  and  Beo- 
wulf," but  my  own  feeling  is  that  the  Norse 
version  recommends  itself  much  more  to  the 
story  teller's  art. 

The  translation  of  the  saga  already  re- 
ferred to  is  considered  authoritative ;  while  a 


HOW  TO  USE  THESE  EPIC  TALES 

feeling  has  been  expressed  by  some  that  when 
Morris  rendered  the  saga  into  verse  in  his 
"  Sigurd  the  Volsung,"  he  lost  much  of  the  old 
Norse  feeling  and  characteristics.  Others  of 
equally  good  discrimination  claim  that  his  own 
love  for  the  original  was  his  safeguard,  and 
that  he  has  reproduced  the  spirit  and  the  fire 
of  those  rude  old  days  in  a  marvellous  manner. 
Sarah  Bradish  has  in  her  turn  retold  this 
epic  from  the  verse  of  Morris's  "  Sigurd  the 
Volsung,"  in  a  small  volume  called  "  Old 
Norse  Stories."  The  first  half  of  the  book 
is  devoted  to  the  Norse  mythological  stories, 
and  she  has  made  many  quotations  from  the 
verse  which  may  well  be  used  in  the  stories 
as  they  are  told. 

STORIES  FROM  THE  VOLSUNGA  SAGA 

Sigmund  Wins  the  Sword 

BBADTSH.    Old  Norse  Stories,  p.  122,  and  last  para- 
graph, p.  129 
Visit  to  the  Goths 
Same,  pp.  129-36 
Sigmund  and  Sinfiotli 

Same,  p.  138,  last  paragraph  to  141  (The  Mere- 
wolves)  ;  omit  to  last  paragraph  143;  continue  to 
2d  paragraph  147;  omit  from  147  to  154  (Death 
of  Sigmund) ;  continue  154  to  158 

223 


STORY  FELLING 

Death  of  Sigmund  and  Birth  of  Sigurd 

Same,  pp.  158-67 
Regin's  Story 

Same,  pp.  168-77 
Forging  of  the  Sword 

Same,  pp.  178-88 
Brynhild 

Same,  pp.  189-92 
Gudrun's  Dreams 

Same,  pp.  193-202 
Sigurd  and  the  Nibelungs 

Same,  pp.  203-14 
Wooing  of  Brynhild 

Same,  pp.  210-22 
Death  of  Sigurd 

Same,  pp.  223-34 

The  books  which  have  been  given  as  those 
suited  for  use  by  the  story  teller  have  been 
recommended  also  with  the  thought  that  they 
will  supply  the  demand  of  the  children  for 
something  to  read,  which  should  follow  a 
story-hour. 

The  sequence  in  which  these  epics  are  to 
be  presented  has  not  been  considered  in  the 
order  in  which  they  are  here  listed.  What 
will  be  the  fitting  introduction  to  the  classic 
hero  tales  will  depend  somewhat  on  the  en- 
vironment where  the  stories  are  given,  and 
also  on  the  age  of  the  children  who  listen,  as 


HOW   TO    USE    THESE    EPIC   TALES 

well  as  the  personal  inclination  of  the  story 
teller.  It  may  be  wise  to  use  only  one  cycle, 
or  it  may  be  desirable  to  give  several,  pro- 
vided a  sufficient  time  elapses  between,  so  that 
the  stories  do  not  become  confused. 

It  is  possible  to  group  the  epics  according 
to  subject,  —  the  martial  epic,  the  epic  of  ad- 
venture, the  epic  of  romance,  and  so  on ;  but 
the  importance  of  such  grouping  is  in  the 
fact  that  the  children  who  are  leaving  their 
Indians  and  primitive  life  behind  will  be  in- 
terested in  the  heroes  who  are  warriors  first 
and  foremost ;  who  will  be  interested  later  in 
single  adventure,  and  only  at  the  last  of  the 
period  will  be  inclined  to  consider  the  epic 
when  the  element  of  romance  is  evident  to 
any  degree. 

After  what  has  been  said  it  will  hardly  be 
necessary  to  remind  the  story  teller  that  the 
child  of  the  rural  community  and  small 
town  is  in  many  respects  quite  a  different 
problem  from  the  child  of  the  great  city, 
especially  if  the  latter  was  but  recently  a 
foreigner ;  and  nationality  will  play  a  part  in 
the  instinctive  appeal  of  certain  stories  with 
children  whose  inheritance  they  rightly  are. 
225 


STORY    TELLING 

LIST  OF  BOOKS  SUGGESTED  FOR  THE  STORY 
TELLER 

ANDERSEN.  Fairy  Tales  and  Stories.  111.  by  Tegner. 
Century,  $5.00 

ANDERSEN.  Fairy  Tales.  Tr.  by  Mrs.  Lucas.  Button, 
$2.50 

ANDERSEN.     Wonder  Stories.    Houghton,  $1.00 

BALDWIN.  Fifty  Famous  Stories.  American  Book  Co., 
$0.35 

BALDWIN.  Discovery  of  the  Old  Northwest.  Ameri- 
can Book  Co.,  $0.60 

BALDWIN.     Story  of  Roland.     Scribner,  $1.50 

BALDWIN.     Story  of  the  Golden  Age.    Scribner,  $1.50 

BOLTON.  Famous  Leaders  among  Men.  Crowell, 
$1.50 

BOLTON.  Lives  of  Poor  Boys  who  Became  Famous. 
Crowell,  $1.50 

BOUTET  DE  MONVEL.     Joan  of  Arc.     Century,  $3.00 

BRADISH.  Old  Norse  Stories.  American  Book  Co., 
$0.45 

BROOKS.     Historic  Boys.    Putnam,  $1.50 

BROWN.  Book  of  Saints  and  Friendly  Beasts.  Hough- 
ton,  $1.25 

BRYANT.  How  to  Tell  Stories  to  Children.  Houghton, 
$1.00 

BRYANT.  Stories  to  Tell  to  Children.  Houghton, 
$1.00 

CARNEGIE  LIBRARY  OF  PITTSBURGH.  Annotated  Cata- 
logue of  Books  Used  in  Home  Libraries  and  Read- 
ing Clubs.  $0.25  postpaid 


HOW  TO  USE  THESE  EPIC  TALES 

CABNEGIE   LIBRARY   OF   PITTSBURGH.     List  of   Good 
Stories  to  Tell  to  Children  under  Twelve  Years 
of  Age.    $0.05  postpaid 
CHURCH.     Odyssey  for  Boys  and  Girls.     Macmillan, 

$1.50 

COOKE.    Nature  Myths.    Flanagan,  $0.35 
DASENT.     Popular  Tales  from  the  Norse.     Putnam, 

$2.50 
FARMER.     Boys'   Book  of  Famous  Rulers.     Crowell, 

$1.50 

FOA.    Boy  Life  of  Napoleon.    Lothrop,  $1.25 
GRIMM.     Fairy  Tales.     Tr.  by  Mrs.  Lucas.     111.  by 

Arthur  Rackhani.    Lippincott,  $1.50 
GRIMM.     Household  Stories.    Tr.  by  Crane.    Macmil- 
lan, $1.50 
GUERBER.    Story  of  the  English.    American  Book  Co., 

$0.65 
HASSLER.    Graded  List  of  Stories  for  Reading  Aloud. 

Public  Library  Commission  of  Indiana 
HATHAWAY.     Napoleon  the   Little   Corsican.     Rand, 

$0.35 

JACOBS.     Celtic  Fairy  Tales.    Putnam,  $1.25 
JACOBS.     More  Celtic  Fairy  Tales.     Putnam,  $1.25 
JACOBS.     English  Fairy  Tales.    Putnam,  $1.25 
JACOBS.    More  English  Fairy  Tales.    Putnam,  $1.25 
JACOBS.     Indian  Fairy  Tales.    Putnam,  $1.25 
JOHONNOT.    Ten  Great  Events  in  History.    American 

Book  Co.,  $0.50 

KIPLING.    Jungle  Books.     2  v.     Century,  ea.  $1.50 
KROUT.    Alice's  Visit  to  the  Hawaiian  Islands.    Amer- 
ican Book  Co.,  $0.45 

LANG,  ANDREW.     Blue  True  Story  Book.    Longmans, 
$0.50 


STORY    TELLING 

LANG,  ANDREW.     Crimson    Fairy    Book.      Longmans, 

$1.60 

LANG,  ANDREW.    True  Story  Book.    Longmans,  $2.00 
LANG,  JEANIE.     Story  of  General  Gordon.     Button, 

$0.50 
LANG,  JEANIE.     Story  of  Robert  the  Bruce.    Button, 


LANG,  L.  B.    Red  Book  of  Heroes.    Longmans,  $1.60 
LANIER.    Ed.  Boy's  King  Arthur.    Scribner,  $2.00 
LORD.    The  Touch  of  Nature.    American  Unitarian  As- 
sociation, $1.00 
MACLEOD.      Book    of    King   Arthur    and    His    Noble 

Knights.     Stokes,  $1.50 
MACLEOD.     Book  of  King  Arthur,  etc.     Burt,  $1.00 

(Inexpensive  edition) 

McMuRRY.    Pioneers  of  the  Mississippi  Valley.    Pub- 
lic School  Publishing  Co.,  $0.50 
MARSHALL.     Stories  of  Beowulf.    Button,  $0.50 
MARSHALL.     Stories  of  Roland.     Button,  $0.50 
MARSHALL.    Story  of  Napoleon.    Button,  $0.50 
MARSHALL.    Story  of  William  Tell.    Button,  $0.50 
OZAKI.    Japanese  Fairy  Book.     Button,  $2.00 
PALMER.     Tr.  Odyssey  of  Homer.    Houghton,  $1.50 
PERRY  and  BEEBE.    Four  American  Pioneers.    Werner, 

$0.50 
PYLE.     Merry  Adventures  of  Robin  Hood.     Scribner, 

$3.00 

PYLE.    Some  Merry  Adventures  of  Robin  Hood.    Scrib- 
ner, $0.50   (Condensed) 

PYLE.    Story  of  King  Arthur  and  his  Knights.    Scrib- 
ner, $2.50 

PYLE.     Story  of  the  Champions  of  the  Round  Table. 
Scribner,  $2.50 

228 


HOW   TO   USE    THESE    EPIC   TALES 

PYLE.    Story  of  Launcelot  and  his  Companions.    Scrib- 

ner,  $2.50 
RADFOBD.      King   Arthur    and    his   Knights.      Rand, 

$0.75.    School  ed.,  $0.50 

RAGOZIN.     Frithj  and  Roland.    Putnam,  $1.50 
RAGOZIN.     Siegfried  and  Beowulf.     Putnam,  $1.50 
RENNINGEB.    Story  of  Rustem.    Scribner,  $1.50 
RICHABDS.     Five  Minute  Stories.    Estes,  $1.25 
RouLfcT-NixoN.      Japanese    Folk    Stories    and    Fairy 

Tales.    American  Book  Co.,  $0.40 
SCUDDEB.  Book  of  Legends.    Houghton,  $0.50 
SCUDDEB.    Children's  Book.    Houghton,  $2.50 
STEDMAN.    In  God's  Garden.    Jacobs,  $2.00 
STEBLING.    Story  of  Sir  Galahad.    Dutton,  $1.50 
STOCKTON.      Fanciful    Tales.      Scribner,    0.60 
The  Story  Hour:    a  magazine.     406  Fifth  St.,' N.  W., 

Washington,  D.  C.,  $1.00  per  year 
TAPPAN.    In  the  Days  of  Alfred  the  Great.    Lee,  $1.00 
TAPPAN.     In   the   Days   of  William  the   Conqueror. 

Lee,  $1.00 
TAPPAN.    Ed.  Children's  Hour.     10  vols.     Houghton, 

$17.50 

UPTON.    Ed.  William  Tell.    McClurg,  $0.50 
WABBEN.    Stories  from  English  History.    Heath,  $0.65 
WILLISTON.    Japanese  Fairy  Tales.     Rand,  $0.75 
WILMOT-BUXTON.    Stories  of  Persian  Heroes.    Crowell, 

$1.50 
WILSON.     Story  of  the  Cid  for  Young  People.     Lee, 

$1.25 


229 


A   MOTHER'S   LIST   OF 
BOOKS  FOR  CHILDREN 

BY  GERTRUDE  WELD  ARNOLD 


very  useful  little  volume  gives  a  list  of 
A  the  best  books  for  children,  classified,  first, 
as  to  age,  from  two  to  fourteen  years,  and,  second, 
as  to  subject-matter  —  picture  books,  poetry, 
mythology,  folk  lore,  fairy  tales,  religion  and 
ethics,  travel,  description,  science  and  out-of-door 
books,  history,  biography,  etc.  Besides  the 
authors,  publishers  and  prices  are  given,  and 
under  each  title  is  a  brief  descriptive  paragraph. 
The  list  has  been  examined  and  approved  by 
Miss  Hewins  of  the  Hartford  Public  Library, 
Miss  Hunt  of  the  Brooklyn  Public  Library,  and 
Miss  Jordan  of  the  Boston  Public  Library,  and 
there  is  a  delightful  introduction  by  Thomas 
Wentworth  Higginson. 

Three  Comments  Representative  of  the 
Large  Number  Received 

"This  little  book  will  be  a  most  valuable  aid  to  the  mother  who  wants 
to  buy  the  best  books  for  her  children,  but  is  not  quite  sure  what  they  are. 
.  .  .  An  excellent  book  for  a  Mothers'  Club  or  for  the  individual  library." 
—  American  Motherhood. 

"  '  A  Mother's  List  of  Books  for  Children  '  cannot  but  be  most  helpful, 
and  I  know  of  no  other  as  good.  Its  author  has  done  a  great  service  to 
womankind."—  ELLA  L.  BLAIR,  President  of  New  York  Slate  Federa- 
tion of  Women's  Clubs. 

"  I  have  gone  very  carefully  over  *  A  Mother's  List  of  Books  for  Chil- 
dren,' and  I  have  for  it  ouly  words  of  praise.  As  a  mother  who  has  lived 
to  appreciate  the  value  of  such  a  book,  and  as  a  woman  to  whom  requests  for 
guidance  are  continually  coming,  I  most  heartily  endorse  Mrs.  Arnold's 
book.  "  —  MART  I.  WOOD,  Manager  of  General  Federation  of  Women's  Clubs. 

Bound  in  Buckram.     16mo.   $1.00  net 


A.  C.   McCLURG   &   Co.,   Publishers,  CHICAGO 


FINGERPOSTS     TO 
CHILDREN'S   READING 

BY  WALTER  TAYLOR  FIELD 


TO  THOSE  who  have  the  interests  of  the  child  at  heart, 
there  is,  in  these  days  of  many  books  and  omnivorous 
reading,  no  more  difficult  problem  than  that  of  selecting  those 
things  best  qualified  to  further  the  moral  and  sesthetic  develop- 
ment. To  this  problem  Mr.  Field  has  devoted  himself  with 
a  success  that  should  earn  for  him  the  gratitude  of  all  parents 
and  teachers.  With  rare  sympathy  the  author  of  "  Finger- 
posts to  Children's  Reading  "  discusses  juvenile  literature  in 
reference  to  its  aspects  in  the  home,  the  school,  the  public 
library,  and  the  Sunday  school,  giving  carefully-graded  sugges- 
tive lists  for  each,  together  with  a  bibliography  of  reva- 
lent  works  for  teachers  and  parents. 

A  FINE  TRIBUTE  has  been  paid  to  Mr.  Field's  success- 
ful dealing  with  the  question  of  juvenile  literature  by 
Dr.  Hamilton  W.  Mabie.     In  a  letter  addressed  to  the  author 
he  says: 

"I  have  just  read  and  examined  with  some  care  your 
little  book  "  Fingerposts  to  Children's  Reading,"  and  I  shall 
not  be  satisfied  until  I  have  sent  you  a  word  of  hearty  appre- 
ciation and  of  personal  thanks.  You  have  prepared  a  book 
which  I  have  been  hoping  would  appear  for  a  long  tune  past, 
and  you  have  done  it  with  sound  judgment  and  intelligence, 
both  as  regards  material  and  the  needs  of  children.  I 
especially  like  your  treatment  of  the  Sunday  school  library, 
which  is  rational  and  human,  and  therefore  fundamentally 
religious." 

Indorsements 

"An  extremely  useful  book  for  parents,  teachers  and  librarians." 
— Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"Here  is  a  wise  little  book  that  will  help  you.  .  .  There  are  just  ten 
chapters  of  advice,  all  marked  by  wide  reading  and  common  sense." 
— Portland  Oregonian. 

"  This  little  book  will  prove  a  beneficial  factor  in  forming  the  future 
character  of  the  child."— Louisville  Courier  Journal. 

Handy  16  mo.  (4|  x  6|)  $1.00  net 


A.  C.    McCLURG    &   Co.,    Publishers,  CHICAGO 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OP  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


